What Didn't Happen
by ThomasWalkman
Summary: Anne doesn't break the slate over Gilbert's head.
1. Averting the Tempest

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I liked the first two movies (haven't seen the third) but am far more familiar with the books, so this story is based solely on the books. Constructive criticism is appreciated; flames are not.

---

When I looked up from my sums I noticed Gilbert Blythe silently reaching across the aisle towards Anne. Gilbert sure did like to tease the girls something awful…and that's when I realized that Anne's temper plus Gilbert's merciless teasing would not equal good things.

He grabbed Anne's braid and whispered: "Carrots! Carrots!"

I noticed a dark look cross Anne's face and I could feel her body beside me about to spring up.

One day I was lying on the couch reading a novel and I lamented to my mother that I could never be anything like Anne. I was just a plump, plain, practical girl, nothing like imaginative Anne with her slender figure and distinct nose and hair. Her temper, I thought, as a small price to pay for the energy that was in her. When she entered a room, everything just seemed more _alive_.

"Diana Barry," scolded my mother, unsympathetic. "That Anne Shirley will get into more scrapes than you can think of, mark my words, and then you'll see it's good to be practical. Now come help with these preserves."

My mother's words came back to me in a flash as I laid a hand on Anne's shoulder.

"Anne, Anne," I said, sounding more pleading than I would have liked, "You're not nearly done your sums yet and Mr. Phillips is bound to call on you sooner rather than later."

Anne cast one last scornful glance at Gilbert before realizing what I had said. I could feel her shoulders slumping and she leaned forward over her slate. She returned to her academic self, the picture of intense concentration, determined to catch up to the fifth reader. I hoped the look I cast at Gilbert would make him understand that Anne was a girl who did not like to be teased about her hair, but Gilbert was already looking around for his next victim, head moving around like a pigeon's.

"That Gilbert is just _so_ handsome," intoned Josie. "I think he likes me," she continued, dropping to a whisper. I knew it was impolite, but I couldn't help myself. That smirk of Josie's just invited eye-rolling.

We were loitering outside the school. I had stopped Josie to ask her to talk to her cousin Gertie for me, but I was beginning to regret it.

"Well he is certainly handsome," said Anne, sounding indignant. "But so very rude!"

"Anne, he didn't mean anything by it! He makes fun of girl's hair all the time. Why, I can't count the number of times--"

But here I was interrupted by Josie.

"Look! He's heading our way!"

I noticed the stubborn set in Anne's jaw.

"Yes, well we have got to be heading out now, be sure to tell Gertie that I will speak to her if I get a proper apology…" I started explaining to Josie. But it was too late; Gilbert was upon us.

"Hello ladies," he said, and he exaggeratedly lifted his cap off his head in greeting.

"Hello Gilbert," simpered Josie.

"Hello," I said. Gilbert nodded at me and Josie, and then turned his look to Anne and waited.

And waited.

"Diana," said Anne, with her haughty queen-like air that she sometimes affected. At least she finally broke the awkward silence. "I've got to get home and help Marilla with the cooking. Matthew's putting in an extra-hard day of work to get all the potatoes in on time. Let's get going, shall we?" She looped her arm through mine and dragged me away. I knew Anne would never stay so I let myself be pulled but put a bit of resistance since I wanted to listen to what Gilbert and Josie were saying.

"What did I do to her?" I could hear Gilbert ask Josie.

"Oh, probably nothing," answered Josie with disdain. "She's always like that."

"You really ought to forgive him Anne," I said, on our way up to school the next morning. "He doesn't even know what he did!"

"He knows perfectly well what he did," said Anne. "And he owes me an apology."

I sighed. Anne was determined to be unfriendly towards Gilbert, and there wasn't much I could do about it. Unless…

After another morning's lessons lunchtime had arrived. Anne was far away frolicking in the flowers and I took the opportunity to take Gilbert aside. Boys and girls alike cast us looks that were bound to blossom into gossip about us. I ignored them. This was far more important – Anne liked to, no, Anne _had_ to be loved by everybody, and though the Pyes were a lost cause I wouldn't allow Gilbert to be another "thorn in her soul", as she would put it. She hid it, but I knew it would simply tear her apart.

"Diana," offered Gilbert in greeting.

"Gil," I said. "Anne's hair colour is a sensitive subject to her. I know you only meant to tease but it still offended her. I'm sure if you apologize and explain yourself, she'll likewise apologize for slighting you".

I wish I was nearly so eloquent.

"You've got say sorry to Anne," I blurted out instead.

"What?" he asked with a confused look.

"Just, say sorry, okay?"

He got an angry look on his face.

"I didn't do anything to her!" he said, and walked away. I sighed. That didn't go as planned at all.

Then I heard Jimmy Glover shout from the top of a tree: "Master's coming."

I spotted Anne in the distance. She really was further away than I had thought. I started running back, hoping that she'd be able to get in on time. I took my seat and noticed Anne come in just a short time later, followed by a pack of boys. I sighed in relief.

But Mr. Phillips wasn't feeling kind that day.

"Anne Shirley, since it doesn't seem as if you like to be in the company of girls, I'll have you sitting alone this afternoon," he said sarcastically. "Diana." I looked up at him, startled. "Go sit with Gilbert Blythe. And Anne, take those flowers out of your hair."

Anne looked at me forlornly and really made a pathetic figure, picking the rice lilies off her hair. I took up my school materials and moved towards Gilbert.

"Diana," he said with a charming smile. I felt my heart flutter a bit. Then he dropped his voice so Mr. Phillips wouldn't overhear him: "I'm sorry Mr. Phillips punished you and Anne. Most of the boys came in later than she did!"

"Yes, I know," I said, hesitant to say anything more. I knew my mother didn't approve of talking that way about a schoolteacher…then again, Marilla approved even less, and that didn't stop Anne. "But…" and here I looked at Anne staring at the window, undoubtedly dreaming up fairy castles and romantic heroes, and took courage, "I'm awful glad I got seated with you." Gilbert looked a little astonished and I worried that I had been too bold. "Um, instead of with any of the other boys. You're the best of the lot."

I was just digging myself in further.

---

Read and review!

If you want some better Anne reads I recommend Blythe Spirit and its sequel, Unromantic Ideal, by Morte Rouge, as well as Dora's Tale, by Emily-in-the-glass


	2. Still Leads to a Tragic Tea

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Well a week has passed so here I am again! You guys, I'm re-reading AoGG and the early chapter titles are hilarious. In other Anne-related news, Megan Follows was on _The Border_ (a Canadian show about…uh…the border, the one between Canada and the U.S.) this past week! I missed the episode but there you go.

---

Two weeks later Anne invited me to tea and I happily accepted.

"Oh Diana, it'll be perfectly splendid! I'll have fruit cakes and cherry preserves laid out for us and Marilla has ever so graciously allowed us to – oh, but I won't spoil the surprise!"

Surprise unspoiled, I arrived at Green Gables later that day in my second-best dress. Anne was attired likewise and she led me into the sitting-room. I couldn't think of anything grown-up to say and Anne, surprisingly, couldn't think of anything to say either, so we sat for ten minutes in silence.

Finally, she took the lead:

"How is your mother?" she inquired. After we exchanged a few routine sentences Anne couldn't help herself and she exuberantly jumped up from her seat and talked animatedly all the way to the apple orchard where we sat and talked of school.

"Oh that _poor_ Em White," Anne said tragically. "Written up with Charlie Sloane! I would just die of mortification."

"She just about did, went white as a ghost," I pointed out. "And did you see Charlie?"

"Oh yes, he looked pleased as a punch," Anne said.

"But he only had eyes for one person," I smiled. Anne flushed in embarrassment, the red trailing from her cheeks down to her throat. I liked Anne's red hair but I wouldn't have it for anything if I'd always have to blush so much.

"Well I suppose we shall have some raspberry cordial now," Anne said, jumping up. I laughed and followed her. After a bit of searching she poured me a tumbler the liquid. I took a sip. It tasted very sweet, but at the same time, it felt like a bit like fire was burning down my throat. I decided I liked this particular cordial quite a lot.

"This cordial's awfully nice, Anne," I said.

"I'm real glad you like it," she replied. "Take as much as you want." She excused herself and went to finish a few chores.

I eyed the bottle. Taking a second tumblerful of it would feel a little like gluttony – but I hadn't eaten anything yet, so I wouldn't be overeating. I grabbed the bottle. Then I hesitated again. The tumbler was awfully big…but…I decided a second tumbler wouldn't be so bad and poured another. I had almost drained the cup by the time Anne came back.

"I will tell Marilla how much you liked her cordial! Do take a third." I obliged her. "Mrs Lynde always brags about hers and tells me she'll teach me how to make hers some day if only I'd be able to keep my mind about me long enough to not burn down the kitchen or cause some other disaster. But oh, Diana, it's not ever my fault! Not really, anyway. There's just so little scope for imagination. I forgot to put the flour in last time I was baking a cake…"

I managed to follow her for this long but I felt my mind start dragging. The next few phrases I caught were "smallpox", "tears", and "imagine I were a Catholic". That last one startled me a little, but not enough to get my mind focused on her barrage of words. I looked at the cordial instead. Red, red…I could certainly feel myself flushing. I gave up entirely on following Anne's words and looked down at the floor. This, I realized, was a very bad idea. The floor began to spin and getting up would take a heroic effort. But I had to get up, and get to somewhere where I could just lie down for a little bit. I launched myself onto the floor and managed to catch my balance well enough, but I felt the floor shift upwards and was forced to sit back down.

"Why, Diana, what is the matter?" queried Anne.

"I'm – I'm awful sick," I said. I could hardly get the words out. "I – I – must go right home."

Anne tried to convince me to stay but all I could think about was home. She said something about smallpox again and then walked me back to my home's yard fence. I managed to make it all the way to the house and knocked once. This took a lot of energy, and I collapsed onto the porch. I could hear footsteps, and then my mother's horrified voice after she opened the door:

"Diana! Dear child, what is the matter?" she asked me. She knelt down, scooped me up, and laid me on the sofa. For whatever reason, I found this ridiculously hilarious and began to laugh.

"Diana Barry, you listen to me. _What_ happened to you?"

This was even more hilarious and I spouted with laughter until I gave in to my mind dragging me to sleep.

x

Sunday was not a good day for me.

"Diana Barry! That _Anne_ girl," my mother said, as if 'Anne' were some type of slug or other garden pest, "has set you _drunk_!"

"Mother," I started to say, but then stopped short. "_Drunk_?"

"That's right."

"But…the only thing I had to drink was raspberry cordial! How ever could that have happened?"

"She not only set you drunk, she also _lied_ to you!" mother continued, sounding even more outraged than before. "Make no mistake, that was _alcohol_. That Marilla Cuthbert and her currant wine," she muttered. She walked out of the room and came back in with a cup of water. My mouth was very dry so I drank it down gratefully and handed it back to her. She looked at me with some regret in her eyes but then pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Diana," she finally said. "I'm afraid I can't let you be in the company of that Anne girl anymore. She is a terrible influence on you. It's bad enough she gets into such scrapes, but to involve you–!"

"Mother, I'm sure it was a mistake!" I immediately replied, and could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Before I could stop myself I burst out into sobs.

"Shh, hush child. It's for your own good."

I spent the next day two days forlorn, in bed, escaping into books so as not to think of what mother would tell Anne. On Monday afternoon Miss Cuthbert came to Orchard Slope and spoke with my mother. I was in my bedroom, so I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but I could hear Miss Cuthbert's already curt voice become even sharper. Miss Cuthbert was far too much of a lady to slam the door when she left a few minutes later, but the silence that followed their discussion was just as effective. I cautiously made my way downstairs.

"Diana!" said my mother, one she spotted me. "Miss Cuthbert came here to speak on Anne's behalf but Anne is just _not_ fit company for you. I don't want to hear of you even speaking to her at school."

Things had quickly gone from bad to worse. But what was I do to? What had my mother taught me? Be practical. Remain calm. For goodness' sake, child, stop crying.

So I stopped crying and took a deep breath.

"Mother," I said, as respectfully as I possibly could. "When have you ever seen Anne do something bad _intentionally_?"

My mother was silent for a few moments. I silently thanked the Lord that I had stopped Anne from hitting Gilbert that day.

"She gets into bad situations _absent-mindedly_. That's even worse," my mother said flatly, instantly crushing my hopes. "Imagine if she were to take it into her head to do something intentionally bad!"

I was beat, and I knew it.

"At least give me ten minutes to speak with her one last time," I pleaded.

My mother considered.

"Alright," she said. "Ten minutes. Tomorrow, after you've finished your chores for the afternoon."

x

My farewell with Anne was really very pathetic, and heart-rending besides. To have never been told that she was loved before!

I recounted the whole incident to Gilbert the next day before class started.

"Well that's an awfully sad tale, Diana," said Gilbert, his voice sincere. "You think there's anything I can do for either of you?"

I brightened. "You can apologize to Anne! I bet that would make her feel tons better."

Gilbert looked torn, but then he squinted his eyes and nodded.

"Alright. I guess I do owe her an apology. I hope it works!"

"I'll tell you if it does," I assured him.

x

The next day I noticed a bright red, Blythe-exclusive apple on Anne's desk. Anne was about to take a bite into it but then seemed to decide otherwise and dropped it back onto her desk.

Gilbert gave me a look, and I shrugged and shook my head. That definitely hadn't worked.

---

Reviews are always appreciated!

Next chapter: Minnie Mae's near-miss, the shindig thing at the Avonlea Debating Club, and hopefully (maybe) we'll get to the Christmas concert. Either way, at least 20% more Gilbert!


	3. The Trials of Diana Barry

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Hurray, new chapter! Fixed a few mistakes in the last one. Have decided to use x's to indicate paragraph breaks. Several lines of dialogue in this chapter are lifted from AoGG. 'Bingen on the Rhine' is by Caroline E. Norton. You guys, I have so many story ideas for AoGG fics, but of course I have to finish this one before embarking on another long-term one. Still, one-shots to the rescue! To get anticipation going, expect a canon-compliant one-shot up overnight on Christmas Eve, my present to you.

--

It was a cold day in January when I had the worst scare of my life.

Minnie May was sitting on the floor playing with her dolls when she made a strange sound. I looked up from my book (_Around the World In Eighty Days_) and glanced at her.

"Minnie May, are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, sounding unconcerned. I turned back to my book but could not ignore the high-pitched sounds she kept making for long. I put my book down and observed her. I noticed that every time she breathed in, she'd make the whistling sound.

Then she started coughing; a hoarse, terrible cough that had me very alarmed. I jumped off the couch and crouched on the floor. The only thing I could think to do was to feel her forehead for a fever. To my dismay, she was hot to the touch.

My parents had gone to see the Premier speak. The only person left in the house was…

"Mary Joe!" I hollered, increasingly distraught at Minnie May's increasingly hoarse cough. Young Mary Joe came running down the stairs and took in the scene before her.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," I answered desperately. "She's got a fever, and a cough…"

"The croup," said Young Mary Joe.

Then she stood for a few moments. I waited for her to say something else, but she said nothing.

"So what do we do?" I cried.

Mary Joe looked abashed.

"I don't know."

I realized that if neither of us knew what to do, I needed to get help. Minnie May collapsed onto my lap and I had to work at not panicking. I shook my head to clear it. Most of the adults in town had gone to see the Premier speak and I was sure that neither the Blythes nor the Lyndes were home. Gilbert might be of help, but there was no sure thing.

What I did know was that both Anne and Mr. Cuthbert did not go to hear the speech, and that Anne had to help raise many children. She was also our nearest neighbour, other than the Blythes.

I looked at Minnie May in my arms and decided that matters of life and death were far more important than the ban on speaking to Anne.

I picked up Minnie May and passed her to Mary Joe.  
"Put her on the kitchen sofa. I'll be back!" I said. I grabbed a shawl and then ran out the door.

x

There was no time for niceties. I felt a little embarrassed but barged right into Green Gables. Anne was just coming out of the cellar. She was obviously surprised to see me and managed to drop the things she was holding, making a resounding crash. This did nothing to help my nerves and I could barely get the words out to explain what was happening.

We ran back to my house and there was Minnie May, not looking any better. Young Mary Joe was standing there, helpless.

Fortunately, Anne kept her head about her and gave us instructions. I went to look for some flannel cloth for Minnie May, while Anne looked for the ipecac. I came back and we put Minnie May to bed. Anne somehow managed to force the green syrup down her throat. I quickly ran to fetch a bucket. But Minnie May was spitting nothing up and as the bottle of ipecac got emptier I got more concerned. One look at Anne, though, calmed me down; she seemed perfectly unconcerned. Finally, Minnie May coughed up all that was stuck in her throat and I cried in relief.

A while later Mr. Cuthbert finally arrived with the doctor. He declared that Minnie May would be fine with a bit of rest. The stress of the evening finally caught up to me and I feel asleep to the voices of Anne and the doctor.

x

Of course, after that, mother forgave Anne. We were once again together and I realized that I really had missed Anne sorely – it was only after speaking with her that I felt whole once again.

For my birthday my cousins took me to the concert at the Debating Hall. Anne came along and we had a splendid time. Gilbert Blythe's reading was especially good. He convinced me that he _was_ the soldier that lay dying, reminiscing about his hometown of Bingen on the Rhine.

He came to the fifth stanza:

"There's another -- not a sister; in the happy days gone by,"

And here he looked right at Anne. But she was stubbornly reading her book.

"You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;"

It was undeniable that Anne's eyes did sparkle, her emotions always showing.

"Too innocent for coquetry, --- too fond for idle scorning, ---"

Anne was definitely not one for 'idle scorning', and she certainly wasn't a flirt.

"O, friend! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!"

And this described Anne to a "t" – she could reach the highest of heights but also the lowest of lows.

"Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen,

My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), ---

I dreamed I stood with _her_, and saw the yellow sunlight shine

On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, --- sweet Bingen on the Rhine."

Gilbert was still looking at Anne intently, with a strange look in his eyes. I felt a twinge in my chest. He finally looked away and towards the audience in general as he finished the poem to robust applause. I clapped enthusiastically and he shot me a smile that sent my heart queerly thumping.

x

We arrived back home and Anne and I relived the concert. The topic inevitably turned to Gilbert.

"Anne," I noted, "how could you pretend not to listen to him? When he came to the line, 'There's another, _not_ a sister,' he looked right down at you."

"Diana," said Anne, sounding the slightest bit annoyed, "you are my bosom friend, but I cannot allow you even to speak to me of that person. Are you ready for bed? Let's run a race and see who'll get to bed first."

"Wait, Anne." I grabbed onto her wrist, since she was already dashing towards the room. "You really _should_ accept Gilbert's apology," I said, hesitatingly. Anne's moods could generously be described as volatile, and I didn't want to say anything to put a damper on the evening. Still, it needed to be said. "It's been a few months already and he's _really_ very sorry. You've got to forgive me him _sometime_, Anne."

Anne looked like she was sure she'd never forgive him even if he offered her the light of the sun and a castle full of dryads.

"Oh, nevermind," I finally said. Some other time, I'd try to talk sense into her. It was far past our bedtime and I was ready to sleep. Subdued, we walked to the spare room. I noticed that there was already a figure on the bed and we walked silently out of the room and shut the door.

"That's Aunt Josephine," I informed Anne. "We'll have to sleep in Minnie May's room. What a bother. And you know how she kicks!"

x

The second worst scare of my life happened during a party I held in early August.

Josie Pye's smugness at Jane Andrews failing to finish the dare was getting to be a bit too much to tolerate. Anne thought so too.

"Josie," declared Anne, in her most dramatic tone, "I dare you to walk along the top of the board fence." She gestured at the fence that ran along the edge of the garden. Josie's face gave away nothing as she walked up to the fence and climbed on to it. Anne and I gave each other a look of dismay as we watched Josie easily walk the fence. When she reached the end she hopped off and threw a smirk at Anne. Anne tossed her hair.

"_I_ don't think it's such a very wonderful thing to walk a little, low, board fence," she said. I looked at the fence doubtfully. It was as tall as any of us girls and quite long. But Anne continued. "I knew a girl in Marysville who could walk the ridge-pole of a roof."

"I don't believe it," said Josie. "I don't believe anybody could walk a ridge-pole. _You_ couldn't anyhow," finished Josie. My concern became full-blown misgiving as I realized Anne could not resist such a challenge.

"Couldn't I?" she indeed said.

"Then I dare you to do it," said Josie.

I gasped as Anne walked towards the house.

"Don't do it, Anne," I said. But Anne felt she had to do it. She climbed the ladder and balanced herself on the ridge pole. I held my breath. Since my short prayer that she wouldn't take up the dare obviously hadn't been granted, I instead prayed that there would be no catastrophe.

I should have known better than to pray for the impossible. Catastrophe was unstoppably attracted to Anne. She took a few steps, stumbled, and fell, sliding down the roof – _my_ roof – onto the ground below.

_My house had killed Anne_, I thought wildly.

The girls shrieked but I didn't have the voice to do so. Instead, I ran around the house to the other side.

"Anne, are you killed?" I yelled, aware that my voice was more than a little high-pitched. The other girls were right behind me as I threw myself to my knees. "Oh, Anne, dear, Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if you're killed." Her pearl bead ring that she had willed me would be little help in getting over the death of my bosom friend.

But she sat up and spoke. I breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was gone when my mother appeared on the scene. Fortunately, Anne, who in such situations managed to maintain a remarkable amount of composure, sent me to fetch my father.

I couldn't imagine hearing what my mother, father, and Miss Cuthbert would have to say to me, so instead I just focused on the fact that Anne was alive and mostly well.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: Oh chapters, they only get longer. I wonder which Premier was speaking? If it was the Premier of PEI, according to the timeline sussed out on the site _Notes on the Geography and Chronology of Anne of Green Gables and its sequels_, it would have been a Grit, not a Tory. I guess it could have been a Premier of another province, though that'd be strange. Anyway, next time: Definitely the Christmas concert, and probably the Story Club!


	4. The Sweetest Story Ever Told

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I know, I missed last week's update! And for that I am sorry. Exams and life caught up to me to deliver a nice double-whammy. But I'm on break now, woohoo! In other news, I find that 'the kindness of strangers' (to quote Blanche Dubois) grows exponentially during winter storms. To my Toronto homies: I hope everyone has been travelling safe and keeping bundled up.

**Insub**: Thanks for the review! :)

--

My mother always did have very good decorating taste. The bright colors of the chintz covering the walls, the ornate dark mahogany furniture, and the gas light sconces gave the sitting room a homey air. The fire burning in the fireplace held the cold December air at bay. On top of the mantle sat a clock, the time reading 6:53.

I was sitting at the organ, Minnie May beside me, my parents behind me.

"We're ready, my girl," said my father. I played a few of the last bars of the familiar tune, and then launched into the song proper. My sister joined me in singing. Two bars later, my mother (from whom I inherited my voice) joined in with a harmony. My father finally joind in another bar later, giving the carol a warm undertone with his tenor voice.

_Silent night, holy night_

_All is calm, all is bright_

'_Round yon virgin mother and Child_

_Holy infant so tender and mild_

_Sleep in heavenly peace_

_Sleep in heavenly peace_

Young Mary Joe had gone home earlier that day to spend Christmas with her family. My mother looked kindly on her after the fiasco with Minnie May, where Mary Joe had proven useful and industrious. She had told me to make up a basket filed with some of her best preserves, rice pudding, pumpkin tarts and a bottle of apple cider.

"You have a Merry Christmas, Mary Joe," said my mother, giving the basket to Mary Joe.

"Thank you ma'am, same to you ma'am," replied Mary Joe dutifully, and off she went, whistling cheerfully.

_Silent night, holy night_

_Shepherds quake at the sight_

_Glories stream from heaven afar_

_Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia_

_Christ the Saviour is born_

_Christ the Saviour is born_

I thought of her Aunt Josephine and her kindness at paying for a quarter's music lessons. I had sent a letter to her earlier that month in hopes that it would get to my aunt by Christmas.

_Dear Auntie Josephine_

_Thank you very much for giving me the gift of this quarter's music lessons. I am to sing at the Christmas concert being put on by Miss Stella, my teacher, and I am sure my voice is much improved thanks to the lessons. I am also practising my scales every day on the organ. The B-flat major is proving tricky but I am determined to learn it._

_Love from your niece,_

_DIANA BARRY_

I was almost _too_ proud of myself. Here, finally, was something that I was good at _and_ that my mother approved of.

_Silent night, holy night_

_Son of God, love's pure light_

_Radiant beams from Thy holy face_

_With the dawn of redeeming grace_

_Jesus, Lord at Thy birth_

_Jesus, Lord at Thy birth_

"Our Father Almighty who art in heaven," I said later that night, kneeling at my bedside. I was tired from all the excitement about the Christmas concert tomorrow evening, but I had never gone to bed without saying my prayers and wasn't about to start now. I thought of all the blessings I had been given this year. "Thank you for always providing for me and my family. Thank you for letting me have the music lessons. Thank you for saving Minnie May. Thank you for saving Anne when she fell from the roof. Thank you for giving me a great teacher this year. Thank you for everything."

x

I spent the afternoon of Christmas day with my classmates, decorating the hall. The evening could not come soon enough but when it did come it felt too soon. I was backstage, pacing the floor and reciting her song's lines in her head.

"Whisper once again the story old, the dearest, sweetest story ever told…Tell me, do you love me?"

"Well I hope that question isn't directed at me, Diana Barry," interrupted a voice. I looked up, surprised. There indeed stood Gilbert Blythe.

"What if it was?" I answered, laughing.

"I'd say leave me alone, I'm practising for my tableau," he replied dryly.

"Are you nervous?"

"Not at all," he said, with the sort of arrogance that could only be pulled off by a fifteen-year-old boy. "Are you?"

"A little bit," I admitted, knowing that I couldn't hide it. "What if my voice cracks in the middle of the song?" I peered around the edge of the curtain and could see some of the girls performing 'The Society for the Suppression of Gossip'. I took a look at the audience. The hall was packed to the brim.

"Diana, Diana, calm down," said Gilbert, awkwardly patting my back. I drew back and realized that I had been breathing rather shallowly and quickly. I took deep breaths.

"You'll do fine," he continued. "I've heard you sing before, you sound great. If you can do it while walking to school, you can do it in front of an audience."

I gave him a suspicious look. On our way to school, Anne and I would sing little ditties we came up with from the top of our heads. The only way Gilbert would have known that would be…

"Have you been following us to school?" I asked indignantly. To my surprise, he blushed.

"Well…that doesn't matter, right now," he said hurriedly. "The point is, Anne's great at recitation but out of the two of you, I have to admit, your singing voice is better."

I smiled and thanked him and then it was time for the boys' dialogue, so he went on stage. I peered around the curtain and watched the dialogue, then Anne's recitation.

Anne finished and came backstage.

"Oh, Diana, how did I do?" she asked breathlessly. I smiled at gave her a hug.

"You were wonderful, Anne! The audience can't get enough of you, just listen to them applauding."

"Diana, you have no idea how wonderful it is to hear that!" she said, before adding with a mischievous smile, "Though I suspect soon enough that you will experience it firsthand! Hark, I hear Mr. Allan announcing you." She gave me a little push towards the stage. I could feel my heart hammering in my ribcage. Mostly thanks to Anne's guidance, I found my way onstage, where Mr. Allan was finishing the announcement.

"Miss Diana Barry, performing _The Sweetest Story Ever Told_, with accompaniment by Emma White."

He walked offstage. For a few moments, the silence of the hall was oppressive. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and my vision blurred until the audience all seemed to be one great blob of color. Then, I heard someone cough, and all at once my sense returned to me and I realized that bolting off the stage would not be a practical option at all.

So I began to sing.

Anne asked me later, how it felt.

"Frankly, I didn't even realize I was singing anything," I said. Anne looked at me questioningly, so I clarified. "I mean, I didn't have to try to remember the words, or anything…the words just came to me." The explanation was awkward, and I wasn't sure if it made any sense. But Anne, being my bosom friend, and having uncanny empathy with every living creature besides, understood what I was saying.

"That's the perfect way to put it, Diana! You do have a knack for the right words sometimes, dearest. Your singing was heavenly, really – the applause almost brought down the hall! Oh, but we must hurry and get ready for _The Fairy Queen_."

We changed quickly and walked onstage. After we finished the dialogue I noticed a most peculiar thing. One of the roses had fallen out of Anne's hair when she scampered offstage to get ready for her final recitation. It was time for the fourth chorus and Gilbert Blythe walked onstage to get into position. Suddenly, he noticed the rose. He looked around to make sure nobody saw him, and then quickly picked up the rose and tucked it into his breast pocket. I rushed backstage just about ready to tell Anne but before I could reach her Miss Stella cornered me to make sure I knew my lines for the fifth chorus, which I was a part of.

After that chorus I rushed backstage while they sang the sixth song and got ready for the final tableau. Ruby, Anne, and I looked at each other, and nodded our heads.

"Girls, we must close out the night spectacularly," said Anne. The choir having finished, the lights on stage dimmed, and we scrambled to our places. Anne was Hope. She clasped her hands in a very particular manner and cast her eyes towards the ceiling. It would almost have been comical had she not seemed so angelic dressed in the white gauzy material of our dresses. Ruby was Faith. Her arms were holding a miniature harp and her eyes were looking forward, to represent steadfastness. Her pose looked overdramatic but her fine features helped balance that. Having neither fine features nor angelic looks, I realized I had to get my pose right on the nose. I was on an elevated platform and was looking down, with my arms outstretched towards the ground. Charity.

The lights came back on and I almost blinked from the brightness. But we all held our poses steady and a minute later the curtain dropped to thunderous applause. We broke our poses and grinned at each other. Unable to hold back we released high-pitched squeals and rushed towards each other, engaged in a three-way hug. The rest of the girls joined us and the boys looked on, amused or bewildered. Finally we parted ways and headed out to find our families.

I spoke with Anne for a few moments until I spotted my family. Waving goodbye to her, I walked towards them. Minnie May flew forward and gave me a fierce hug.

"Diana, I want to be just like you when I grow up!"

I looked at my parents in surprise but they smiled.

"She's been telling us that ever since you did your solo," said my father. My mother nodded in agreement and, for once, I could see something like pride in her eyes.

--

Reviews are always welcome!

A/N: No, I could not resist the sappy ending. It's almost Christmas, after all! Have a merry one, y'all. The tableau reminds me of that living paintings thing they did in Stars Hollow on _Gilmore Girls_. Anybody remember the name of that ep? Oh, yeah: _The Sweetest Story Ever Told_ is by R.M. Stultz. _Silent Night _(my second favourite carol after _Carol of the Bells_) is originally by Franz Xaver Gruber and Josef Mohr, translated by John Freeman Young.


	5. Time Passes

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I never did comment on Kevin Sullivan's new Anne offering, _Anne of Green Gables: A New Beginning_. That's because I could only stand to watch bits and pieces of it. Ghastly. I miss Megan Follows.

--

Pencil and notebook in hand, I headed towards the garden fence that my father had just repainted. Coming up with ideas for a story was difficult, and Anne was too busy wrestling with geometry problems to share any of her thoughts. I pulled myself up onto the fence and sat uselessly chewing the end of my pencil, a habit I couldn't break myself of.

I looked up from my notebook and observed Gilbert walking down the lane towards my house. When he came close enough I shouted out a greeting and he returned it.

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"My father has a message for yours. Is he in?"

I shook my head. "My father's gone to Brighton this evening to pick up a visiting cousin. He'll be back later tonight."

"Well that's alright, I guess I'll just talk to him in the morning." Gilbert pulled himself up on the fence and sat next to me. "What are you doing?"

"Writing," I said, with some frustration. "Except I can't think of anything _to_ write."

He bit his lip, silent in thought for a few moments. "Well, I'm not all that imaginative…why don't you ask Anne for ideas?" he finally said.

"She's too busy hitting the books, trying to show you up," I said with a laugh. "You'd better get to your books, too, if you don't want to embarrass yourself tomorrow."

He shrugged. "I suppose I should." He hopped down from the fence and lifted his cap in an exaggerated motion. "Good day to you, Diana Barry."

"Good day to you, Gilbert Blythe," I replied, and off he went. I looked back to my notebook and an idea suddenly popped into my head.

x

"Lady Martha took the elixir from the gypsy.

'This is the only way, Lady Charlotte,' said Lady Martha. 'After Sir Reginald, Madam Grey, and Lady Teresa were murdered, this is my only option!'

'I guarantee that any men you do not like will never speak to you again!' crooned the gypsy.

'Don't drink it!' exclaimed Lady Charlotte, reaching towards her friend. But it was too late. Lady Martha had already tipped the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed.

'See, no cause for concern,' said Lady Martha, when nothing had happened for a few minutes. But all of a sudden, she fell onto the ground in a dead faint, dirtying her white taffeta gown embroidered with pearls and diamonds.

'Lady Martha! Lady Martha!' said Lady Charlotte, throwing herself onto the ground and cradling Lady Martha's head in her lap. Lady Martha blinked twice and awoke, breathing faintly. Lady Charlotte looked around, but the gypsy had already left. Instead she saw the noblest knight of all the land, Sir Bertrand, astride a galloping horse, coming nearer and nearer by the second.

'Sir Bertrand!' said Lady Charlotte.

'It didn't work!' said Lady Martha, sounding out of breath. It was then that Lady Charlotte realized that it was Sir Bertrand that Lady Martha wanted to keep away. Sir Bertrand swung off his horse and kneeled next to Lady Martha.

'What's wrong?' he asked, in a manly but also boyish voice. His hazel eyes were coloured with concern.

'Sir Bertrand,' croaked Lady Martha. 'I'm so sorry. I thought you were the biggest pest I'd ever met. But it turns out that – _I've loved you all along_.'

Lady Charlotte and Sir Bertrand held their breaths, waiting for what Lady Martha would say next. But they could hear no more breathing from Lady Martha. Lady Charlotte bent down to take a pulse, but she could feel nothing.

'Lady Martha!' cried Lady Charlotte. 'I could never live without you!' She took up the elixir and downed what was left of the liquid before Sir Bertrand could stop her.

'Lady Charlotte!' said Bertrand, rushing over to her side and shaking her. But it was no use. He decided who couldn't live without his true love and ran his sword through his heart."

I finished my story triumphantly, certain that it was the best story I'd ever written. The girls were all sobbing pathetically, ruining more handkerchiefs.

"That was perfectly tragical, Diana dear," said Anne with a last sniffle. "But…who was Bertrand's true love? Lady Charlotte, or Lady Martha?"

"Uh…"

"Well it was Lady Charlotte, of course," said Jane. "She was always by Sir Bertrand's side."

"But Lady Martha loved him all along! She just didn't know it. I bet Sir Bertrand did, though," said Ruby, who was by far more romantic than the sensible Jane.

"Well, which was it, Diana?" asked Anne.

I was saved by Mrs. Gillis, walking into our meeting place for the week, the Gillis' garden.

"Ruby, if your club meeting is finished, I've some errands I need you to run," she said, not unkindly.

"Yes, mother," intoned Ruby. We hurriedly stood up and bid our farewells.

x

"Why, Anne, whatever happened to your hair?" asked Gilbert, sounding completely baffled. Anne's hair was clipped short, almost to her scalp.

Anne turned her nose up. "Diana, dear," she said flatly. I took the cue and turned awkwardly in my seat to face Gilbert.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but Anne had a bit of a mishap with her hair," I said sternly. He opened his mouth to comment but I glared at him, daring him to say something about how having red hair was already mishap enough. He quickly closed his mouth and I turned back to face the front. I had taken to practicing imitating my mother's 'I'm annoyed' look in front of a mirror and I was satisfied that the results had paid off.

Miss Stella raised an eyebrow at Anne's new look but with her usual grace managed to quiet the gossip and commentary at least a little bit.

x

"The dory! Anne, I'm not so sure," I said. Anne and I were standing the edge of the pond. She was looking at my father's flat-bottomed dory like it held the secrets of life. "Do you even know how to swim?"

Here she faltered. "Well, no – not – exactly."

"What if you drown?"

"Don't be silly, Diana," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll go get the paddles while you untie the boat." Off she went, leaving me little chance to argue. I sighed and started unwrapping the rope from the peg. Anne returned paddles in hand, just as I finished.

"Diana, we've done this plenty of times. It shouldn't be any different just because your father isn't here," she said, sounding reasonable. A reasonable-sounding Anne was something to be worried about, I knew, but she was just so convincing.

"Alright," I said, still slightly doubtful. Ruby and Jane appeared from over the crest of a hill and walked towards us. They noticed the rope in my hand and the paddles in Anne's and exchanged glances.

"Are you going rowing, then?" asked Ruby.

"Yes," said Anne.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Jane, as doubtful as I had been in the beginning. "Do you even know how to swim?"

Anne huffed. "Well, let's just hope I don't fall over, then! Anyway, if anything happens, you can just run off and get Mr. or Mrs. Barry." With that, Anne got on the boat, beckoning me. I gave one final glance at the firm ground beneath my feet before getting on the boat as well.

"Alright, see? We're okay. Now, where are the paddles?"

We had already drifted about three feet away from land.

"Anne! I thought you had them with you." I glanced back and noticed Ruby and Jane staring at the paddles that were lying on the ground.

"Pass them here, will you?" I asked. Ruby picked one up and extended it to me. I reached forward, grabbed it, and passed it to Anne. I turned back and tried to reach the second paddle that Ruby was extending towards me, but it was a bit too far. We were about seven feet away from shore now. I turned around and crouched, finally managing to get a hand on the paddle, but hadn't quite gotten a good grasp on the handle when Ruby let go. I tipped out the boat and landed face-first in the mud of the bank.

"Diana!" screamed Ruby, Jane, and Anne. I stood up, all wet and covered in muck.

"Oh…" I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I clambered onto the shore and turned around, only to notice that Anne was now drifting further away.

"Anne! Paddle back!" I yelled. I looked down at my dress and rubbed my hands against it, hoping to get rid of some of the mud, but that only seemed to make a bigger mess.

"Diana, I'm veering to the left," said Anne, sounding a bit dismayed. I sighed. Smart she might be; nautical, she was not.

"Then paddle on the other side for a little bit and keep switching," I instructed. Anne finally got back to shore and smiled triumphantly, leaping to her feet. Of course the boat overbalanced and sent her over the side and into the muddy bank. She got up, sputtering.

"Oh dear…" she sighed. "Well, getting my dress dirty is a sight better than putting liniment in a cake or dyeing my…" she quickly stopped and hoped that Jane and Ruby hadn't caught the last part. But they were smirking at her.

"Well, I guess that solves the mystery of the hair," said Ruby, with a laugh. "Oh Anne, you didn't!"

She blushed. "Well I didn't mean to! I mean, I did mean to, but…"

We all laughed as she turned redder. She explained the green-ing of her hair to Ruby and Jane, then swore them to secrecy.

"Oh, alright Anne, we promise not to tell," said Jane. "But you girls had better get home…at least Miss Cuthbert expects something like this from you by now, Anne," she said, a little worried, "But good luck on your side, Diana."

I groaned, not needing to be reminded of what awaited me at home when I returned in a muddy dress.

x

"Well, at least you learned something from it," said my mother, after I had gotten changed. "Next time you girls want to learn something like that, ask your father to teach you, alright?"

I nodded, surprised at her reaction.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, Diana," she said. "I didn't always use my common sense when I was a little girl." I took a bit of offence at being called a 'little' girl, but when my mother noticed my expression she just laughed it off. "You'll be a little girl until you're seventeen, Diana, and then you'll suddenly become a young woman." She glanced at Minnie May, who was playing with some dolls on the sitting room couch, then gave a wistful sort of sigh, and walked towards the kitchen. I finally put together why she was in such a forgiving mood – tomorrow was Minnie May's birthday. I had plans with Anne and the girls tomorrow, but I abruptly decided that I'd cancel them and instead try to spend as much time as possible with Minnie May tomorrow.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: At summer camp last year I had the fortune of teaching canoeing while 1) having almost no skills in such a task, 2) not having the kind of authoritative air necessary to deal with lots of sullen teenagers, and 3) sucking at swimming. It was really fun, though.


	6. Days of Magic

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Happy New Years, everybody! My New Year's Resolutions: 1) Be awesome 2) Meet a unicorn 3) Give blood.

Sorry about the late update! To make up for it, I promise another one-shot will be up by the end of January.

**tvor**: I appreciate the review! :)

--

"Farewell sweet sister," I said as sorrowfully as I could.

"Sister, farewell for ever," said Ruby in an equally melodramatic tone. Jane gave Anne some last-minute instructions on how to pose as dead, and then we pushed the flat off the little dock. We waited to make sure the flat caught the current and then ran to the lower headland, giggling unromantically the whole while.

"Look, there comes Elaine," said Jane, pointing to the flat. It crossed under the bridge and then –

Sank.

In the twinkling of an eye the flat had disappeared and I could think of nothing to do other than stand there uselessly. Then Ruby started shrieking. Jane and I exchanged a horrified glance.

"Anne!!" we screamed. I started running towards my house, Ruby and Jane following me.

"We killed her!"

"It can't be! Oh Anne!"

"Daddy'll save her!" I said, a bit bewildered at the ridiculously high pitch of my voice. But there was no time to think. We reached my house and I flew into the house.

"Father! Mother!" I yelled at the top of my voice. We went around the house barging into every room, but there was no one to be found. Jane and I exchanged another glance, this time one of panic. Then Ruby's hysterical crying brought us back to attention.

"Ruby! Stop crying!" said Jane sharply, but Ruby kept on screaming and sobbing. She pulled at Ruby's arm, but she was not to be moved. Jane gave up with an exasperated sigh then turned to me. "Green Gables!" she said. I nodded. We left Ruby in my house. By the time we got to Green Gables my lungs felt like they were on fire from all the running and my throat felt dry from the screaming and crying.

I knocked frantically at the door. Jane felt no need to do so and instead just ran into the house.

"Miss Cuthbert! Mister Cuthbert!" she yelled. I was more familiar with the house so I ran upstairs to check the rooms while Jane checked the first floor ones. All the rooms were empty. I ran back down the stairs and crashed into Jane in the kitchen.

"Oh, she's sure to have been drowned by now!" I sobbed. Jane, who had so far remained valiantly stoic, finally burst into tears as well.

"We're murderesses! If we hadn't made her play Elaine…"

I nodded my head. "Let's go back to the pond!"

"But there's nothing we can do there…"

"Well it's better than doing nothing," I said hotly. I pulled Jane along and we rushed back. About halfway there, to my total surprise, I saw what I at first thought to be an apparition. Anne – alive! Then I remembered the painful lesson from the Haunted Woods and confirmed to myself that ghosts didn't actually exist. I ran towards her and threw my arms around her neck.

"Oh, Anne," I gasped, hardly able to get the words out because of how hard I was crying and how much my throat hurt, "Oh, Anne – we thought – you were – drowned – and we felt like murderers – because we had made – you be Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics…" I broke off, realizing that there was a mystery here to be solved. I drew back and looked at her, puzzled. "Oh, Anne, how did you escape?"

"I climbed up on one of the piles," she said, "and Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr Andrew's dory and brought me to land."

"Oh, Anne, how splendid of him!" Jane said, obviously delighted. "Why, it's so romantic! Of course you'll speak to him after this."

"Well…" she said reluctantly. I gasped in surprise as Anne blushed a bit. "I decided to forgive him. But I don't want ever to hear the word romantic again, Jane Andrews," she finished.

"Anne…why?" I asked, confused, and hoped Anne would understand my question. Being my bosom buddy, she did, and nodded sagely.

"Well, I remember all those times you've told me I should forgive him," she said, "And two years is a long time. Besides," and here she lifted her chin and put on airs, "I'm thirteen now. I should be mature enough to forgive."

"Though surely not forget," I added. We burst into giggles.

"Definitely not."

x

"But _mother_," I said, hoping my voice didn't sound quite as whiny as I thought it did, "why not?"

"Girls don't need any further education," she said. "All you need to do is be an accomplished young woman. Your piano-playing is coming along quite nicely, Diana."

"Thank you," I started, but then I realized she was trying to distract me. "But what if some day I need to support myself? What shall I do then, mother," I finished triumphantly.

"But that won't ever happen," she said, returning to folding the laundry. "You're going to grow up to be a lovely lady and the boys will be all after you."

She was sounding a lot like Ruby. I scrunched my nose and looked down doubtfully at my stomach. I was already coming to realize that I'd grow up to be what could generously be described as 'stout'.

"It's because of that Anne Shirley, isn't it," my mother said, with a touch of both reproof and actual understanding. "I never do know what Marilla is thinking, but you can be sure that I'm not letting any girl of mine get such notions in her head."

"But even Jane, Ruby, and _Josie Pye_ are going to be in the class," I said. "Why not me?"

My mother looked at me with The Look. I turned towards my father, who was sitting on the couch reading the evening news.

"Father?"

He looked up, met my eyes, looked towards my mother, looked back towards me, and shook his head. I sighed and headed up to my room. Arguing any further was going to get me nowhere.

Being old was turning out to be an awful lot of work. Decisions to be made, responsibilities to take. Miss Stacy had talked to all the girls and told us that we needed to build a good foundation while we were in our teens. I thought that working hard in the Queen's class would be an excellent foundation, but mother thought otherwise.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure that I really wanted to be a teacher. The idea of keeping so many children in line…I recalled the cricket-racing and the other hijinks the boys got up to, and the levels of cattiness that girls could get to.

And Anne was always looking for more to learn, even facing down geometry. I didn't feel like I needed to do that – I was pretty happy just reading novels and playing the piano. I did wish that there was _something_ else I could do – something grand and charitable, like the heroines did in our Story Club's stories.

But I realized I'd be alright living the life my mother wanted me to live. If I had no dreams for myself – other than marrying a dashing, honourable man – I might as well fulfill hers.

x

That first day after class was dismal.

At dismissal I left, but Anne, Gilbert and the rest of the Queen's class stayed behind for the extra lessons. Once I was up the path a bit I glanced over my shoulder and could see Anne looking at me through the window. She noticed and quickly looked back towards the front of the class, but I could see her dejected posture.

Emma White sidled up to me on my way to Birch Path.

"_Di_ana," she said, "I know you're pretty good friends with Charlie Sloane, right?"

I looked at her, a bit bewildered at where this conversation was going.

"Um, not exactly." I saw her crestfallen face and hastened to add: "But he is dead gone on Anne."

This wasn't the right thing to say, apparently. She frowned.

"Don't tell me that," she said, with a dismissive wave. "Everyone knows that. But, you know, he _did_ write my name up with his."

"I thought Mamie Wilson did that. And that was two years ago. And…I thought you were mad about it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Di_a_na, I was so young back then!" She shook her head. "Anyway, if you hear anything, let me know. Ruby's a right gossip but I know you're a reliable source," she said matter-of-factly. I was a bit horrified at being considered a 'source', but she just kept on going. "Anyhow I've got to be getting home. I'll see you this Saturday at the picnic, Diana?"

I nodded my head. She smiled and went merrily on her way.

x

"Diana!" called Moody Spurgeon, as Anne and I were headed home from prayer meeting. We turned towards him as he loped down the hill towards us. He came to a stop in front of me. Billy Andrews popped up out of nowhere and asked if he could walk Anne home. Anne threw me an imploring look but I shrugged as Moody asked me the same. Off we went, Anne and Billy following a little distance behind us.

"I'm going to be a minister, you know," he said, sounding very unsure of this fact.

"So have you been to visit Mr. Allan often?"

He blushed. "Oh, uh – no, I suppose I should?"

Moody was nice and polite, and not arrogant at all, but sometimes I wished he'd just have a _little_ more confidence in himself.

I could hear Anne's clear, distinct voice easily. "Nice clear sky this evening. It's like the curtain of a heavenly play has been drawn and the fairies are starting their brilliant tableau," she said tentatively, always willing to give someone a chance. Awkward silence when Billy said nothing.

"Maybe. It might be a good idea," I said, turning my attention back to Moody.

"Yeah, sounds like a great idea. Say, are you going to Gertie Pye's birthday party next Thursday?"

"Oh, I suppose I should," I said. If only the Pyes weren't so Pye-ish, I could like them better. "Lots of people will be going. Are you?"

"I'm not sure if I should," he said, looking a bit embarrassed. "It seems like too much…frolicking, for a future minister."

"Moody," I said as seriously as I could, "You're still only thirteen. Just a boy! Enjoy yourself while you don't have so many responsibilities and decisions." I felt a bit hypocritical saying this, but at least I realized that this was good advice for me to take as well.

He nodded. "How do you do it, Diana? You're always just so…not sensible," I gave him an affronted look but he held up his hands to stop any indignant comments. "I don't mean it that way! I mean that isn't quite the word I'm looking for. You're always just so…practical."

I didn't quite know whether to feel complimented or dismayed.

Anne still ventured forth with Billy. "Um, sometimes I think the night-time clouds are the moon's gauzy cloak, for when she's feeling cold." I could almost hear Billy's confused smile and I stifled a giggle.

--

A/N: I've come to realize that this story is going to be both a lot longer and a lot more complex than I had originally thought. No worries though! I will forge on. Next chapter: More Gilbert, and other people.

Problem of the day: I'm double majoring in Economics and either Philosophy or History. Which one should I pick? I have till mid-summer to decide.


	7. Interlude

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I guess this is kind of a slow chapter here but it helps me set up characters/relations. Also, I've got another one-shot finished that I'll be putting up on Saturday, so watch for that (it'll be rated M).

**tvor**: Thank you! I really love the pond scene too…and I think it was done pretty well in the movie, thankfully. A double major might be ambitious but my university requires it :)

**Naomi Freisen: **Ta-dah! New update.

--

"They flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude; and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils."

Anne was standing at the top of a hill, staring dreamily at the sky. She took a bow.

"Anne," I laughed, "Whatever are you doing?"

She jumped, surprised, and turned towards me. "Diana! I didn't hear you coming. I was just imagining reciting Wordsworth to a class of enthralled students. And, at the end, I would take a bow. They would applaud," she said, then spread her arms out, encompassing the landscape. Avonlea was quite pretty in mid-spring, the violets blooming and the sun shining down on the 'Barry's Pond'. "And it would inspire them to expand their dreams. Perhaps, someday, one of my pupils will become a famous poet and write about their old, kind, encouraging teacher. Perhaps he'll write: 'To my dear teacher: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach…'"

From behind us came a voice.

"'A Lady red – amid the Hill her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field in placid Lily sleeps!'" We turned around and there was Gilbert Blythe, hands in pocket, walking up the hill. "If we're spending the afternoon reciting poetry we might as well go with some more modern poets."

"Gil! Dickinson! I didn't know you were the type. And I suppose I would be the Lady red?" asked Anne, arms crossed and sounding a bit indignant.

He bowed dramatically. "I don't care what _Atlantic Monthly_ says, I believe history will show Miss Dickinson to have been one of the best poets of our century. Anne, Marilla told me you'd be up here. I was wondering if you'd go over Latin verbs with me."

Anne stood still in awkward silence. Despite having forgiven Gilbert, she was still a bit uneasy around him. She was making a valiant effort, though. She looked at me for some direction.

"Only a bit more than a year until the exam!" I exclaimed, nodding hurriedly. "As for myself, I must be hurrying home to get some cooking done. I'll see you two tomorrow!"

"Oh, wait a minute, Diana," said Gilbert, "I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of letting me escort you to Emma White's picnic on Tuesday?"

"Well certainly, Gilbert," I said, surprised that I was able to get the words out so casually with my hard thumping so hard it was almost painful. "Bye!"

I left the two on the hill, talking of Virgil and Ovid.

x

"Write," said Miss Stacy, "About something from life. Nonfiction, so to speak, but I want it to be as interesting as you can make it, even if you write about hanging the laundry or walking to school. Question, Josie?"

"What if we write about other people and they could get offended by it?" Josie asked forthrightly. "_Some_ people" – a not-so-subtle glance at Anne – "Might find out and hold a grudge about it."

Anne rolled her eyes. Miss Stacy smiled.

"Well you shouldn't be writing about things that could offend people, but in any case, I promise I'll be the only one reading them. If you want, you can replace the names."

So I ended up writing about Emma White's picnic.

_Emma White's Picnic _by _Diana Barry_

Gilbert Blythe and I arrived at Emma's picnic. It was a cloudy day, threatening to rain, but nobody seemed to care, since they were all having too much fun playing games and gossiping.

Emma White and Charlie Sloane stood at the ice cream table. Emma was talking to Charlie about something, but Charlie paid no attention since he was too busy focusing on Anne. Anne didn't even notice him, of course.

"Diana! Gil! So very nice to see you two," she said in a hurry, like she was running away from something.

"I know I'm fairly irresistible and you couldn't wait to see me again, Anne, but it's only been two hours since our class was let out," said Gilbert. Anne slapped his shoulder.

"Stop flirting Gilbert, it's bad manners." She grabbed my arm. "Let's go, Diana." She started dragging me away.

"Hey, wait," said Gilbert, following behind us. "It's bad manners to steal my escort!"

Anne stopped. "Alright, fine. But let's keep busy, shall we? How about a game of tag?"

I finally noticed what had Anne in such a state. "Let's keep busy and keep away from Billy Andrews?"

Anne blushed but nodded. "Yes, exactly." Gilbert just laughed.

Jane Andrews walked up to us.

"Anne! Have I got some news for you," she said, with a sly smile. This was guaranteed to be news Anne didn't want to hear.

"What sort of news, Jane?" she said, cautiously.

"Oh, well…" Jane looked at me and Gilbert. "I'll tell Diana, since I know you'll tell her anyway, but I don't think it'll be quite proper for Gilbert to hear it," she finished awkwardly.

"Um, I don't see why not," said Anne, desperate to hold Jane's "news" off. "I mean, Gil's…a good friend of mine," she said suddenly. Gilbert looked as surprised by this news as she did. "I'll tell him anyway, too."

"You and _Gilbert_?" said Jane, with a strange tone of voice. "Mamie Wilson won't be too pleased to hear this," she muttered as she walked away. Anne and Gilbert were too distracted to hear her.

"Good friends, eh? Would've told me anyway?" said Gilbert with a laugh. "Anne, you'd have never told me that Billy Andrews was madly in love with you. You'd have been too embarrassed by such a thing!"

Unfortunately, Jane was not far away enough yet. She heard Gilbert and turned to face us again. She had a furious look on her face, but instead of saying anything, she stalked towards Ruby Gillis.

"Anne, I'm afraid there will be some unpleasant gossip about you soon," I observed. Anne made a face.

"I thought Jane and Ruby were my friends!"

"Yes, they are, but Jane loves her brother very much and you _know_ that Ruby is an incorrigible gossip."

Suddenly, I heard a splash. I looked towards the ice cream table, and there stood Charlie, his face soaked, and Emma, holding a now empty cup. She dropped it onto the table and walked towards us at an alarmingly fast pace. She walked right up to Anne and pointed at her.

"You keep away from Charlie, Anne Shirley," she hissed. She gave Anne a bit of a push with her finger before walking away.

And that is why I am now one of the few girls in our year to currently be speaking with Anne. Josie Pye is still speaking with her, but considering that they were never exactly cordial to begin with that is neither here nor there.

-END-

I changed all the names, of course, but Miss Stacy still said she wanted to have a talk with me after school. I hung around until after the Queen's class had let out. Miss Stacy walked out of the building and locked the door. She turned towards me and hooked her arm through mine.

"You children grow up too quickly these days," she said, shaking her head. Then she laughed. "I sound just like my mother." She took a breath and launched into her speech in earnest. "Diana, sometimes it's difficult to be a level-headed girl. You see everything that goes on around you and you know better than to react to it, though sometimes you get inevitably dragged into it." She paused. "And then you find yourself surprised to miss out on the obvious when it concerns yourself."

I was trying to work out the syntax of that last sentence. Evidently, the confusion showed on my face, since Miss Stacy sighed and decided to word it another way.

"What I mean is, just don't forget to look after yourself."

"Of course, Miss Stacy," I replied. "My father always says God helps those who help themselves."

She chuckled. "Your father is a wise man, then." We reached the lane that lead up to my house. "Go along then, Diana. I'll see you tomorrow."

x

Anne and I spent a fun summer out of doors, but now it was time for Anne to really buckle down and hit the books to get ready for the Entrance Exam.

"I'm so nervous," sighed Anne. "Marilla and Matthew expect only the best of me. What if I should disappoint them?"

I shook my head. "Anne, Matthew could never be disappointed in you, nor could Marilla for that matter, since she knows you work hard at school." Anne still didn't look convinced. "In any case," I added confidently, "I'm sure you'll be at the very top of that list, Anne Shirley. When you put your mind to it…"

I trailed off as we approached the school. Gilbert was dawdling just outside the door, apparently waiting for us. When he saw us, he shooed Josie away, who had been simpering next to him. She was very indignant at this, and with a huff she walked towards us.

"Diana, how're the knitting lessons coming along? It's just _too bad_ that you couldn't join us for the Queen's class. All the smart girls are in it, you know. Although not all girls who are in the class are smart." She sent a very harsh look at Anne before lifting her chin and gliding away with that proud air of hers.

"Don't you believe a word of it, Diana," said Anne. "It really is too bad you couldn't join us, but you're definitely smart."

"Not as smart as you, Anne," I said, a bit sadly. "You're so very clever…"

"She certainly is clever," said Gilbert, who had gotten tired of waiting and presently walked up to us. "But you're smart in a different way, Diana…life-smart, let's say. I'm certain you've never put anodyne liniment in teacakes, for instance."

"Gilbert Blythe!" squeaked Anne, indignant. "That's no fair."

"You told him?" I asked, a bit astounded that she'd reveal such an embarrassing thing to him. Gilbert smirked.

"I just asked her why Mrs. Allan always laughs a little whenever Anne brings cakes to picnics or teas at the manse."

"Gilbert John Blythe if you say one more word I will certainly never speak to you again – again! You weaseled it out of me."

I couldn't help but chime in. "I'm _certain_ you volunteered the information, Anne…Gilbert would never lie about such a thing!"

"Definitely not!" he scoffed.

"I give you both up!" Anne exclaimed in a huff, and walked into the school house. Gilbert and I exchanged smiles before proceeding to do the same.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: I can easily see Anne and Gil conversing about poetry. This chapter features: _I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud_ by Wordsworth, _How Do I Love Thee_ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and_ A Lady Red – amid the Hill (number 137 in my Franklin edition of her collected poems)_ by Emily Dickinson. Emily Dickinson's poems were published in the 1890's which I estimate is around the time of _Anne of Green Gables_. In 1892, _The Atlantic Monthly_ wrote about Dickinson: "An eccentric, dreamy, half-educated recluse in an out-of-the-way New England village (or anywhere else) cannot with impunity set at defiance the laws of gravitation and grammar", also saying that she possessed "an extremely unconventional and grotesque fancy".


	8. Friends, Of Sorts

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: This week I have had the pleasure of experiencing colder than -25 C (that's -13 F for all you Americans) weather, and I know a lot of Canada and the northern USA have also been hit by the cold snap so here is my recommendation to you folks: put on your favourite sweater, wrap up in a warm blanket, and read a new chapter of What Didn't Happen while drinking a cup of hot chocolate. On another note, watch out for the one shot "Not Exactly Love" (rated M) that I'm putting up right after I put this up.

**tvor**: Thanks! And yeah, Emily Dickinson's one of my favourite poets too. More Gilbert in this chapter though I make no promises for the next one :D

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **Thank you! I've been watching the Tudors, by the way; it's pretty great and nice to see a fellow fan around

**Sarah: **Thanks bunches! I do my best ;)

--

"Your piano-playing is coming along beautifully, Diana," commented Anne. Earlier, the sun had been shining and it had been a beautiful late September day. And as it was the last day of summer, Anne had decided to neglect her schoolwork until later so as to spend the afternoon outside. But a flash thunderstorm made us run back to my house. To while away the time until the storm was over and Anne could return to Green Gables, she had asked me to play a piece for her.

"Thank you," I said, rather modestly, since my playing wasn't _that_ great. Anne smiled.

"Diana, I can tell you don't think you play well, but I assure you that you play with a certain spirit and zest that I am sure could not be duplicated by even the most practiced concert pianist," she proclaimed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Anne. But thank you, anyway. In any case," I noted, looking outside the window, "I'm sure the rain, thunder, and lightning added a bit of drama to the piece."

Anne nodded. "Yes, you're right about that."

x

I stifled a sigh as I sat on the dock with Emma White and Mamie Wilson. It was a rather cold autumn, so we made sure to keep well away from the water. But it was a nice view. The pink and orange colors of the sunset tinted the lake similarly and gave a special sheen to the brilliant reds and yellows of the fall trees.

"The leaves aren't really dying, Diana; they're like phoenixes: they go out in burst of flame only to be reborn in brilliant green," I could almost hear Anne saying.

Instead, I was stuck listening to Emma and Mamie's insipid chatter.

"_I_ think that Moody's got nothing on Charlie," said Emma. "Charlie's going to become a lawyer, you know. Moody'll only be a minister."

"That's no way to talk about the cloth, Emma," I said automatically.

She sniffed.

"Well I certainly won't be married to a poor man, you know. Only a rich man will do for me."

"I think it's better to marry a good-looking one than a rich one," said Mamie.

They talked about boys more than Ruby did and were almost as insufferable as Josie.

"Don't be silly, Mamie. Looks are gone quickly; riches last forever."

"Um, Emma, I'm not entirely sure that's true," I volunteered, hesitating just a bit.

"What would _you_ know? Don't be putting on airs, Diana, I can see that Anne's rubbing off on you."

This incensed me considerably. "Listen here, Emma, Anne's been nothing but kind!"

"Except to Gilbert Blythe for a while there, even though he's always liked her," said Emma.

"Well, she did forgive him eventually," noted Mamie. Emma rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," she quickly said, "she's got all the adults wrapped round her finger, that's certain. Mister and Miss Cuthbert, Mrs. Allan, Miss Stacy…"

"Maybe there's a reason they like her," I scoffed.

Emma got a nasty look on her face that forebode no good. "Well maybe you should figure out what it is and get adults to like you too. I think your own mother likes Anne better than you."

It was official: Emma White was officially nastier than Josie Pye, as unbelievable as that sounded.

"Emma!" scolded Mamie, sounding shocked. I couldn't help it; I burst into tears. Unwilling to let Emma see that she had hurt me, I quickly jumped to my feet and ran up the lane towards my house.

"Wait, Diana!" shouted Mamie from behind, evidently trying to catch up to me. I didn't very much feel like speaking to her, though, so I dodged into the thickets at the side of the road. She caught up to where I had been standing a moment ago, looked around, got a confused look on her face, then continued running up the lane towards Orchard Slope.

After she had gone, I jumped out from the thickets and decided to head towards Violet Vale, where I could find some quiet. Of course I had to cross Birch Path to reach it, and with my exceptional luck I encountered Gilbert and Anne, who had just been let out of class.

I must have looked a fright – red eyes, a splotchy face, and assorted leaves and twigs stuck in my hair. I covered my face in embarrassment.

"Why, Diana!" exclaimed Anne. "Whatever is the matter?" She walked right up to me, clasped my hands, and drew them away from my face. "You haven't been crying?" she asked, a bit surprised.

I sighed and gave a glance at Gilbert. Anne turned towards him.

"Gil, I'll see you later…" He shook his head and remained firmly planted where he was standing, evidently determined to find out what had happened.

"Oh, it's okay Anne, he's no bother anyway," I said. I grabbed the handkerchief Gilbert offered and wiped my face while Anne picked the leaves out of my hair.

"What happened?" she asked, putting an arm around my waist. We walked towards Violet Vale, Gilbert following a step behind us. I told her the whole sordid story and Anne listened seriously, nodding and gasping at appropriate times.

"So then I jumped into the thickets to avoid her and then I came out and found you two," I finished.

"Well," she said, "This is the last straw, as Mrs. Lynde would say. And don't you worry, Diana, I'm completely certain your mother likes you far more than she could ever like me," she said, with a bit of a laugh. "I don't imagine I've endeared myself to her very much."

"That's just it, Anne. She _does_ like you very much, ever since you saved Minnie May's life."

Anne frowned at this, seemed to consider it, and then shook her head decisively. "No, she is thankful to me for that, but I am still an impetuous, willful, bad-tempered orphan who is unwilling to stay in the station prescribed for an orphan and a girl."

This was entirely true. Thus comforted, I finally ventured a smile.

"Thanks, Anne. And you too, Gilbert," I threw over my shoulder. Gilbert, who had been quiet the whole time, gave that charming smile of his.

"Well I didn't do much, but I can certainly guarantee to you that I won't be 'speaking' to Emma for quite a while," he said. Anne and I laughed. That was such a…_girlish_ thing to do.

"Me neither, Diana," said Anne. "Now, we haven't been given very much homework today, so why don't we go for a nice long romp through the woods?"

"Last one there has to be nice to Josie for a week!" shouted Gilbert as he flew past us. Anne and I spared a second to laugh before we ran after him, deciding that he was probably serious.

x

It was a difficult winter for Emma. I began to realize that between Anne, Gilbert, and I, most of the other pupils had taken the cue and also avoided her.

It was a difficult winter for me too, though. Anne and Jane were very involved with their studies, and Ruby split her time between studying and making eyes at the boys. Since I was not speaking to Emma just then, Mamie had to split her time between her and me as well.

Which left me spending time with Josie Pye, who was not as devoted to her studies as the rest of the Queen's class was, and so had time to spare.

"My mother just bought me a new organdy dress, it's to die for, Diana. I'll be wearing it to the next prayer meeting and you'll see it then. The silk is straight from Japan and it was woven in Spain."

"Josie," I said slowly, "I think silk's generally from China, and the best is woven in Italy or France."

"Well, it's of the best quality anyhow," she dismissed.

Josie was insufferable. Mamie Wilson, at least, was a little better, and could be coerced into talking about something other than boys and clothes.

"So my father decided to hire a new hired boy because otherwise he'd never have gotten the potatoes in on time," Mamie said, finishing her story. I nodded, feeling a bit guilty that I hadn't heard a word of it.

The problem was, when she wasn't talking of boys or clothes, she was a dreadful bore.

x

That spring I hardly saw Anne, Jane, or even Ruby or Josie, as they had all turned their full attention to their studies. The Entrance Exam was gaining on them quickly and would be upon them sooner than they expected.

"I was nervous last summer; I simply can't be nervous anymore, though – I haven't the energy," said Anne mournfully.

Though I was once again on speaking terms with Emma, the terms were hardly friendly and I could never speak to her without getting into a petty argument. I didn't like the nastiness that came out of my mouth whenever I talked with her, so I decided to just avoid it all together once again.

"After all, there is no real point to talk to someone who I find completely unbearable if I can avoid it," I commented to Anne. Our time was never entirely free anymore, though – no walks through the woods, no idling on the shore of the Lake. We'd have our conversations at Orchard Slope while I played scales and Anne determinedly worked through geometry problems; or we'd be at Green Gables while Anne would be setting tea out for guests and I'd be fetching a sewing pattern from Marilla.

So Anne, Jane, and Ruby did try their best to spend time with me, but once again I was stuck with occasional conversations with Mamie. One of those conversations, though, did give me some ideas.

"So Julia Bell told Oliver Sloane that _she'd_ be the one that would make better company at the picnic, not Gertie Pye, and Oliver told Charlie who told Josie who told Gertie, and now they're not speaking to each other."

"I thought they were best friends," I said, surprised, though after a moment's reflection I realized there was no reason at all to be surprised.

"You know how it is with best friends," said Mamie airily, before she jumped as if she had gotten caught doing something wrong. "Um, not that you and Anne are like that at all. I guess you wouldn't know after all."

"Anne and I certainly aren't like that," I smiled, "But don't worry about Mamie, I know exactly what you mean."

While Mamie chattered on about more gossip, I thought about what she had told me. I had a feeling that there was something that should have struck me, but what could it be?

Then I realized – other than Gilbert Blythe, I never did talk to very many boys individually, unless they were escorting me to an event. The girls and boys of Avonlea School tended to interact only when in a large group. Maybe it was time to get to know some of the boys a little better. My social circle was to get severely limited when Anne and the others went off to Queen's in September, so I had to start expanding it now.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: I'm assuming that Julia Bell, Gertie Pye, Myrtle Bell, Lizzie Wright, Oliver Sloane, and other random people mentioned are in a different year than Anne and co., but I might be wrong. One of these days someone needs to start up an Anne wiki. Boys in A, D & G's year: Charlie Sloane, Moody Spurgeon, Billy Andrews, Sam Boulter, Fred Wright, umm who else? I wonder how/if Fred is related to Lizzie. I get the feeling I'm going to have to re-read Chronicles etc.


	9. CLASS

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Finish another chapter for _What Didn't Happen_ or study for an economics test: The clear winner is the former; the latter falls by the wayside. This chapter features Avonlea pupils, has some Gilbert in it, and Anne makes a one-line appearance. A million brownie points to whoever knows where the chapter title comes from.

EDIT: During Diana's sleepover party I accidentally typed "Julia" instead of "Emma" in a couple of places. Fixed it!

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **Thanks! "I wonder what happens next" – that's how I feel whenever I'm writing :) I kind of know where I want a story to go, but then the characters go ahead and do something entirely different than they're supposed to.

**tvor:**You're going to have to lend me some of your psychic powers – Fred makes an appearance in this chapter! He's very bland here, but we'll learn more about him in the next few chapters.

**Euripedes:** I haven't read PG Wodehouse but enough people have recommended his books (plus he's admired by Douglas Adams AND Terry Pratchett) that I'm going to have to read one sometime soon.

--

School had let out for the day and I was heading up the lane towards home. I could hear some very determined footsteps run after me and I had almost no doubt who I'd see if I turned around.

"Diana! Wait!" called Samuel Boulter.

I weighed my options and decided to wait. I turned around and soon Sam caught up to me. He paused for a few moments to catch his breath.

"Shall I walk you home? Let me carry your books."

No harm in that. I handed over my books and we walked towards Orchard Slope.

So far, Gilbert, Charlie, Moody, Billy, and even a few older boys had asked me to various social events. There was something to be said, after all, for raven hair and rosy cheeks. The only holdout from our year was Sam Boulter. He had liked me ever since the earliest days I could remember; I, in turn, ignored him as much as possible. It occurred to me that I should have felt guilty about this. But I didn't.

There was nothing _wrong_ with Sam, really. His father was a sturdy man who worked as a farmer and provided well enough for his five children. His mother was a delicate-looking thing with, as Mrs. Lynde said, "less sense than Anne!", but at least she didn't coddle her son. Sam himself was not as intelligent as certain other boys, but he fortunately inherited his father's work ethic without inheriting his mother's lack of sense.

But desperation didn't look good on anybody.

"Diana, I was wondering…"

He stopped walking altogether, seemingly unable to move at the same time as he was speaking. A few moments passed and I resisted the urge to tap my foot impatiently.

"I was really hoping…that…maybe you might sort of if it's not too much trouble like to go to the skating party with me?" he said in a rush.

"Of course, I'd like that, Sam," I replied politely. The anxious line of his lips turned upwards and his smile almost blinded me with its brightness.

"That's great, Diana! I'll see you then," he said, apparently having forgotten that he was supposed to be walking me home. He walked a few steps backwards and raised his hand in goodbye. Unfortunately, he used the hand that was holding my books, and they all promptly fell into the half-mud half-snow that came with the time between winter and spring.

"Oh! Diana! I'm – I'm so sorry. It was an accident, honest," he babbled, while picking up my books and trying to shake them dry. "I'll just carry them for you to your home…don't want you to get your dress dirty, or anything." He gave an awkward, embarrassed grin and we walked side-by-side towards Orchard Slope.

x

Thinking about it, I was a bit surprised that anyone had even hoped to successfully have a skating party in late March.

Thomas Strong tossed a small rock onto the ice. Tiny fissures formed around the rock until all the ice beneath it cracked and down went the rock into the depths of the lake, never to be seen again.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," he said.

"Well why don't we try tossing a rock onto the middle of the ice? We'll just keep away from the side here," said Myrtle Bell, who had about as much sense as Sam's mother.

"I guess we're the ones with no sense," said Oliver Sloane placidly. "Since we agreed to come to a skating party at this time of the year! Do you have a backup plan, Myrtle?"

Myrtle looked mortified at being put on the spot. She turned towards her cousin, Julia Bell, in hopes that she'd be able to come up with something to save her from embarrassment. Julia, who would try anything to impress Oliver, seized the opportunity.

"Why don't we turn it into a bit of a lunch and dance? I'm sure all of us girls here can go to their homes and gather up a few pastries. Freddie, Tommy, Ollie, you can grab your instruments, while the rest of the boys clear the area."

Julia was a blunt kind of girl which somehow won her favour with the boys. She was surely the only one who could get away with calling Frederick Wright, Thomas Strong, and Oliver Sloane by their pet names. They all quickly agreed with the plan. Us girls, who liked Julia a good deal less, were therefore forced to agree.

About half an hour later everything was in place. Fred, on flute, Thomas, on the fiddle, and Oliver, on the guitar, struck up a tune and soon everyone was dancing.

"Well this is a lot of fun, inn't it, Diana?" said Sam.

I nodded, and then we fell into an awkward silence. The dance seemed to go on forever, but finally, it ended.

"May I have the next dance, Diana?" asked Sam. Having good work ethic, it seemed, also meant having extreme persistence. We began to dance again but I noticed that Fred had put his flute down and was now walking towards us. He tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Sam – mind if I cut in?"

"No, go ahead," said Sam, looking like he minded very much. Fred nimbly took his place and we began twirling around.

"You're a good dancer," I remarked. Fred nodded.

"Thank you, Diana," he said earnestly, and so seriously. I heard a splash somewhere in front of me and abruptly stopped dancing. Fred turned around to see what had caused the commotion. Gertie Pye was dripping in mud, having slipped on the wet grass. We all laughed good-naturedly – even Gertie – but when I looked at Fred he remained as serious as ever.

Unbelievable! I had to see how far this humourlessness went.

"Fred, you know my friend Anne, Anne Shirley?"

"Yes, Diana."

"Have I ever told you about the time she got me drunk?"

That caught the attention of a few other people around us and soon I had the whole crowd listening to my story.

"It was entirely by accident, of course," I said. I told the story and the crowd laughed and smiled at all the right times. Except for Fred.

After I had finished everyone dispersed back into pairs to continue dancing.

"That was a good story, Diana," said Fred. "I'm glad everything turned out okay."

"Thanks, Fred," I said, very amused by this strange fellow who never laughed.

Oliver walked up to us and nodded politely at Fred before turning to me.

"Diana! That was a great story. May I have this dance?"

"Of course!" I said, a bit surprised. Oliver Sloane was the one and only Sloane who had ever defied Sloane-ishness. This feat alone made him one of the most popular pupils at Avonlea, to Charlie's utter bafflement.

We began dancing, and I tried to ignore Fred's blank look, Sam's look of dejection, and Julia's glares.

x

Mid-April brought with it a slumber party held at my place.

I invited Mamie Wilson and Elizabeth Wright, and, with some prompting by Mamie, Emma White. I was a bit hesitant about inviting Lizzie – she was two years older than I, and I thought she'd be ever too sophisticated for our little gathering. But she mysteriously agreed to come.

I invited Anne to come too, of course.

"April 16th. We'll have preserves and cordial - and we'll talk our little hearts out," I tacked on, hoping to appeal to her favourite activity.

She sighed. "That sounds lovely Diana – especially that last part," she added, with a sly smile that let me know she was on to me, "But…" She only had to point at a dusty green book with the word "SOPHOCLES" written on the cover in golden letters.

So here I was in my bedroom, with no Anne present. Emma was doing Lizzie's hair into a braid while I was brushing Mamie's.

"That colour will look great on you, Lizzie," I said, referring to the dark red hair ribbon that Emma was using to finish up Lizzie's braid.

"Thank you, Diana," she said. "You've got very good style."

I blushed and tried not to let my pride show too much, but Emma and Lizzie just laughed.

"Take the compliment, Diana," said Emma. She and Lizzie switched places and Lizzie began to plait Emma's hair.

"So," said Lizzie, her gaze steady on the back of Emma's head, "I hear you're real popular with the boys, Diana."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" I asked, a bit incensed.

"Well everyone knows that Sam Boulter and my cousin Fred are after you," she said. Then she cast a quick sideways glance at me before looking away again. "And I heard that Oliver told Charlie who told Gilbert who told Anne who told Jane who told Minnie who told Myrtle who told Julia who told me that he thought you were real pretty."

I rolled my eyes. "Lizzie, that is the longest line of "who told"s that I've ever heard. Anyway, that doesn't mean anything. In any case," I said, recalling words that had been imprinted in my mind, "It's better to be smart than pretty."

The three girls looked at me in surprise.

"Keep your head still, Mamie," I admonished. Mamie turned back to face away again.

"You don't really believe that, do you, Diana?" she asked.

"What if I do?" I said loftily.

"Well if you do, you're fortunate," said Emma, in an unpleasant tone. At my questioning look, she clarified: "It won't be too difficult for you to be smarter than you are pretty," then innocently added, "You know, because you're so good at school, and all."

And here I thought we were on the way to being friends again.  
"Perhaps. I'm definitely more fortunate than those girls who are in no danger of being either smart _or_ pretty," I said, before I could stop myself.

Emma huffed. We glared at each other.

"Um, Diana?" said Mamie, after a minute had passed in silence. "Aren't you going to keep brushing?"

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and then turned my attention back to Mamie's locks. Mamie and Lizzie exchanged wary looks.

"Well, anyway," said Emma, "I heard that Gilbert Blythe is _enraptured_ by Anne Shirley."

I wasn't entirely sure why, but I had a feeling that Emma had just won this battle.

x

"Gilbert! I'm surprised you made it here this evening," I said. It was late May and there was a beach party being held at Newbridge. Some of the Avonlea crowd was here, but I expected the Queen's class would not be able to attend due to the volume of homework they had to complete.

Gilbert shrugged, poking a long branch into the bonfire. A few sparks flew.

"I can see why. But, really," he said, giving a long sigh, "I just needed a break." He tilted his head up towards the night sky, looking lost in thought. I discreetly coughed and he brought his eyes back towards me. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Quite," I said. We both turned to look at the bright orange flame. The light the fire gave off was a bit spooky, really – shadows under the nose and lips, and you could barely make out the eyes of a person.

"I really hope I come first," he said suddenly. I turned, a bit startled – I knew Gilbert was competitive, but he had never before said something so blatantly ambitious. "Anne's a bright girl, but I'm not sure my father would be too proud of me if I got beaten by her – a _girl_, after all." He looked very miserable

Unsteadily, I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Gil, you're both studying very hard. I'm sure that whoever gets first place will deserve it, whether it's you or Anne, boy _or_ girl." He turned to look at me a bit skeptically and I gave a short laugh. "Well, I have no doubt it's going to be one of you two."

He smiled. "Thanks for your confidence, Diana. And you're right. I don't mind losing to a girl who's worked harder for it than I have. Father will just have to live with it, if it happens."

"You know," I said, "You wouldn't have to worry about it at all if you both tied for first place."

"As if we'd be so lucky," he said with a smile.

That moment would, I supposed, stay with me forever. Even after I took my hand off his shoulder and he walked away, I could clearly envision his face, sculpted in the shadows, with soulful brown eyes and a cheeky smile, topped by a mop of chestnut hair.

That's when I realized that I _liked_ Gilbert Blythe, the way Mr. Phillips liked Prissy Andrews, the way Emma White liked Charlie Sloane.

This wasn't right. Everyone knew that Gilbert and Anne would eventually marry, have seven children, and live a long and happy life with Gil practicing medicine and Anne writing the occasional funny sketch.

I had no notions that Gilbert liked me in return, but I knew that, for my own sake, I had to keep away from him.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: I guess if there's one thing to be said about Diana, it's that she has a full social calendar. The Emma v. Diana chronicles continue! Next time: The examination, more about Fred, and other stuff.


	10. Parting Is Such Sorrow

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I had to make a couple of edits of the last chapter; see Author's Notes.

**tvor**: I imagine that while Diana may not be raking in the academic awards, she's got a certain affinity with people…well, she must at least know how to defuse awkward situations, having been forced into so many thanks to Anne ;P

**Naomi Friesen**: Thanks! And ta-dah, an update, that I nearly didn't get finished in time, but phew, here it is.

--

It was a fine summer day and the youth of Avonlea were spending the day frolicking outside. Most were enjoying themselves; a few, though, had anxious looks, that hadn't left them ever since they returned from Charlottetown.

"Moody seems a bit nervous, there," I remarked. Every few minutes he would promptly break away from whatever game or conversation he was in to pace a bit and mutter to himself.

"I'm sure Moody has nothing to worry about, he'll do fine…what do you think, Gil?" asked Anne. She tried to act casual, but her large expressive eyes did her no favours when it came to cloaking emotion, and her concern clearly showed through.

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"In any case, it's not like there's anything to be done about the results any more. As Mrs Allen says, what's done is done and no amount of worrying can undo what's done," I said. "Right, Anne?" I waited a few moments, but no answer came. "Anne?"

"Um…oh! Sorry, Diana, I didn't quite catch that," she said vaguely.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes in frustration. Almost two weeks had passed and I had never seen Anne so unable to focus, nor Gilbert so very taciturn.

"I bet you a dollar that Gilbert Blythe comes first!" declared Jimmy Glover in an unnecessarily loud voice. I looked up, startled. Jimmy was standing next to Ned Wright, and they had apparently been talking about the Entrance Exam. "I've never seen the like of him for hard work."

Gilbert had a surprised expression, but Anne's dismayed look was what worried me. I sent an alarmed look at Lizzie, who noticed and nudged her brother Ned. She subtly inclined her head towards us. His eyes widened.  
"Well, Jimmy, I bet you a dollar Anne Shirley will come first," replied Ned.

"There's no doubt in the world that Gilbert will be first," said Josie Pye, insufferable as _always_.

"And why not, Josie?" asked Julia Bell.

Insufferable as she might be, Josie had recently gained a degree of political savvy and knew that spelling out an insult against the popular Anne would mean being ostracized for at least a few days.

"I'm just saying that Gilly's worked hard, is all," she said.

_Gilly?_ I mouthed to Gilbert, who looked equal parts dismayed and amused. Not even Julia would have come up with such a name.

"I guess we'll see," I said, and hoping to end the conversation, noticing that Anne looked on the verge of physically launching herself at Josie. I decided to switch topics entirely. "Oh, Josie, have you heard of the concert that White Sands is holding this summer?"

x

I was sitting on the couch, knitting a shawl for the Ladies' Aid, while contemplating recent events. Three weeks had passed since the exam and Anne's health was starting to worry me. Her skin had gotten very pale – doing her freckles no favours – and a few days ago Marilla had come over to talk to me directly and asked me to distract her from waiting for the results.

"Why, Miss Cuthbert, it's the distraction that's the problem," I said, shaking my head. "Anne can't focus on a thing."

"That's for certain," she said, and had she been any other woman, she would have given a longsuffering sigh. "We almost had a repeat of the liniment cake incident just yesterday."

I was shaken out of my recollection by my father's entrance into the house.

"Diana!" he said, almost as soon as he came in. "You'll want to see this."

I put down my knitting as he tossed a newspaper towards me. There on the front cover read a headline:

QUEEN'S ENTRANCE EXAM RESULTS

A blurb, followed by "Full results, page 7." I flipped to page 7 and my eyes immediately went to the top of the list.

1. MISS ANNE SHIRLEY tied with MR GILBERT BLYTHE

"Oh! Father! I must head down to Green Gables at once," I called, already halfway out the door.

Once outside I took a moment to glance through the rest of the list. They had all passed! I rushed to Green Gables. In my haste I tripped a few times and barely managed to avoid taking a nasty spill, but I got there almost as quickly as I had when Minnie May had been sick.

"Child, watch you don't take a spill running at that speed!" called Mrs Lynde, who was talking to Marilla at the lane fence, as I rushed past them.

x

The rest of the summer passed dishearteningly quickly after that. As August passed by I realized that I'd miss Anne, Gil, and the rest terribly – I'd even miss Josie Pye, for who else would give me such a chance to parry verbally?

"Di_a_na," said Emma snidely, "I sure do wonder who you're crying more over – Anne or Gilbert Blythe?"

…Right. I had almost forgotten about Emma.

"Anne, of course," I retorted, "Though I certainly will miss Gil."

The non-Queen's Avonlea pupils had gathered together in secret to plan a goodbye party. Or tried to, anyway.

"No, I think it should be a surprise!" said Julia. "It'll have more _oomph_ that way."

"But it'll be harder to get them all together in one place…" complained Oliver.

It surprised me that Julia would stand up against Oliver like that, but then I realized that was probably part of her strategy to impress him.

Still, it didn't seem like they'd come to an agreement any time soon. They turned towards me.

"What do _you_ think, Diana?" they both asked.

"Um, I don't know that I'm the best person to decide this…" I said, with much hesitation.

"Who else knows Anne, Jane, Ruby, Josie, Gilbert, Charlie, and Moody better?" said Oliver in a very reasonable tone of voice. "Mamie knows Ruby and Jane pretty well, and I know the boys pretty well, but you know _all_ of them pretty well."

Well, I supposed that was true. I looked up at the sky, hoping it held the answer, but nothing came.

"Well?" said Julia.

"A surprise party," I blurted out.

"When it comes to your friends, Diana, trust your instincts," my mother had once told me, and I wasn't too proud to recognize that once in a while she gave out good advice.

"We can have at Oliver's place?" I half-asked, half-stated. Oliver nodded his head to reassure me. "We'll tell them it's a surprise, but we'll bring them in small groups so they won't suspect it's a goodbye party for all of them. I'll get Anne and Gil, Oliver can get Charlie and Moody, and Mamie, you get Ruby, Jane, and Josie."

"Are we going to get them anything for their goodbye?" asked Mamie.

"No," interjected Fred, to my surprise. "It'll mean more if we each bring them presents individually."

"But then we'd each have to get presents for them all," said Oliver.

"No, I think Freddie's right," said Julia, shaking her head. "Anyway, we don't all have to get each of them presents, just if we want to."

I silently released a sigh, relieved that Julia had once again taken up the reins of decision-making.

x

"Come on! And stay quiet!" I said, lightly pushing Anne and Gilbert down the valley that led to the Sloane garden. I noticed that Oliver and Mamie had already arrived with their charges, who looked restless but were silent. Oliver and Mamie waved their hands frantically, giving the signal.

"Alright, you can take off your blindfolds," I said, and Oliver and Mamie echoed my instructions. The Queen's class pulled off the makeshift blindfolds.

"Surprise!" yelled the youth of Avonlea. Fred and Jimmy had managed to hang up a banner reading "GOODBYE" with a smaller "we'll miss you" written under it.

"Oh, Diana! You shouldn't have!" exclaimed Anne, before bursting into tears and enveloping me in a hug. Ruby and Jane likewise started crying, and I could see that even Josie was blinking rapidly to ward away tears.

The band, consisting once again of Thomas, Fred, and Oliver, started playing music and a few fires scattered the garden, merrily illuminating our little goodbye.

Gil, being ever the gentleman, spent much of the time dancing with all the non-Queen's Avonlea girls.

"I really will miss Avonlea," he said, when we were dancing together. "I know it's only for a year but ever since coming back from Alberta it's become my home more than ever."

"I guess after spending a year in Charlottetown you'll find Avonlea to be unbearably tiny," I teased.

He laughed. "Tiny, probably so, but I'll have grown so tired of the hustle and bustle of the city that it'll be a relief!"

It was, all around, a nice goodbye for our friends who'd be out of our lives for a year or two - and possibly longer. Gilbert sometimes tentatively mentioned Redmond, and if I knew Anne as well as I thought I did, she'd soon get notions of Redmond in her head as well.

"Freddie here has an announcement to make," said Oliver loudly enough so that everyone would hear him. Fred, who was standing next to Oliver, took a few steps forward.

"More of a speech," corrected Fred. "I wanted to tell you all," and here he made an uncertain hand gestured, "and by all I mean, all you Queen's students, that while you're gone Avonlea won't be the same and we'll certainly miss the liveliness you all have. We wish you the best of luck."

Ned and Lizzie looked unsurprised, but the rest of us were in a bit of shock. Lizzie, who had been standing next to me, noticed my surprised expression and whispered:

"You know, he really is usually so serious and unsentimental, but whenever there's special family occasions that's exactly what speeches need." I sent her a questioning look. "Um, imagine if Thomas or Oliver had given that speech – Thomas would have sounded awkward, and Oliver would've sounded maudlin," she clarified.

Well. That made a strange sort of sense.

The band kicked up the music again and we all danced away into the night.

x

Inappropriately, it was a very sunny, warm but not overly hot, cheerful September day when it was time for Anne to leave.

"Oh, Anne, I'll miss you so. You'll write often, won't you?"

"Of course, Diana darling," she said. "And I'll miss you so."

We burst into tears once again (having already done so at least two times previously that same morning).

"Stop crying, silly girls. Anne, finish your breakfast, you and Matthew'll have to leave soon if you want to catch the train with the rest of them."

I kept crying but Anne managed to stop her tears long enough to dutifully finish her plate, following which she promptly began to sob again. Marilla briskly cleared away the dishes.

"It's not like you'll never see each other again," she said, unsentimentally.

"Oh, but Marilla, it's too – it's too sad!" stuttered Anne. "And I'll miss you, just as much as I'll miss Diana. I do wish you could come to the station with us!"

"I have things to attend to here," she said. "Now get going, Matthew's probably had the horse hitched up for half an hour already."

Anne gave me a fierce hug, gave Marilla a hug as well, grabbed her bag, gave me one last, mournful look, and walked out. I sat on a chair for a good five minutes, slumped, before I realized that I should probably be helping Marilla with the dishes.

"Let me help you, Miss Cuthbert," I offered. But Marilla shook her head.

"No, no, you're a guest this morning. Anyway, haven't you got a beach picnic or some such nonsense to get to?"

"It isn't for a while yet," I replied. "In any case, I couldn't leave you to take care of the dishes without feeling…" but I trailed off when I noticed that Marilla had resolutely kept her back to me the whole time we had been speaking.

"Um, now that I think about it, father wants me to show Minnie a few piano scales for her to practice before I leave for the picnic," I said slowly. "Thank you very much for breakfast, Miss Cuthbert."

She finally turned to face me and gave me the queerest look.

"I'll be round tomorrow to get that shortcake recipe mother wanted," I added, thinking it was the least I could do. "Have a nice day!" I walked out of Green Gables and headed home, doing my best not to dwell on Marilla's odd expression or Anne's departure.

"I imagine Georgina's gotten quite a bit taller since I last saw her," I said aloud, hoping to distract myself by thinking of my Carmody cousins. They'd be at the White Sands beach picnic.

"I imagine so," said a voice from close behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I quickly turned around.

"Oliver!" I exclaimed, putting a hand to my heart and steadying my breath. "You surprised me! Do try not to sneak up on people."

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked jovially. "And excitable, sentimental young ladies are the best kind to surprise."

I turned back around and resumed my walk towards home. "Excitable! Sentimental! I never, Oliver."

He handed me a handkerchief. "Better make sure your eyes aren't too red when you get home, Diana, your mother will think you've taken sick. I guess you saw Anne off."

I took the proffered cloth and dabbed at my eyes. "That's right. Did you see Charlie off?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Though only Nancy cried," he said, referring to Charlie's sister. "That girl idolizes Charlie. I can't see why."

I giggled. "Oliver! Charlie is a nice boy."

"But not as nice as me, right?" he cajoled, and I was forced to give a nod. "Ha! I knew it. Well, here's your stop." He gave a wave and walked away. I was surprised to notice that we'd already arrived at Orchard Slope. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day after all. I decided I'd do my best to enjoy myself at the picnic.

--

Reviews are always appreciated:

A/N: Ack! Now I have an entire year (aka a few chapters) of the Queen's crew visiting only on the weekends. I guess this'll give me a chance to 3-dimension-alize other characters, though we'll get the occasional letter from Anne or Gil. This is Diana's last year of school (as far as I can tell from _AoA_), so Fred, Julia, Oliver, Lizzie, etc., being a year above Diana, are finished and are presumably working on farms/helping in their households.


	11. A Dinner Party

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: School is being all like "Pay attention to me" but I'm all "NO I'm trying to write here" which is why I am going to fail my classes. It's all about priorities. Yours truly will be stuck in a prison-like library this weekend, reading eleven thousand books. Second semester is crazy busy and will fly by. Oh! I became an aunt this week :D

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn**: Thank you! Don't worry, I know the quote :) I never saw what was sweet about parting though – it just seemed plain sorrowful to me! On the upside, at least you get along with your cousins…?

**tvor**: I like Julia and Oliver too…I'm probably biased, though, since Oliver is my favourite boy's name :P

**emily in the glass**: Thanks for the reviews! I suppose you're right about the whole timeline issue. Oh, I thought they went to see the Premier of a province, not the Prime Minister, but I guess that would make sense, and if it was John A Macdonald, that'd also fit in since he was a Tory…

--

School here in Avonlea started just a few days after the Queen's crew left.

I sat beside Minnie Andrews who, as Anne had once written, was "a very nice girl – although she has no imagination."

We had a new teacher, a Mr. George Barclay who had just finished studying at Queen's. On that first day of class he walked into the room, attempting to give off an air of authority. I felt a little sorry for him. He was a young man, not that much older than many of us. He lacked the sternness that had made us relatively well behaved when Mr. Phillips was the teacher, and didn't have that sympathetic tone that made us want to listen to Miss Stacy.

"Settle down," he said. The oldest boys in the class, Sam and Billy, tried to get the younger ones to settle, but to no avail. Mr. Barclay, clearly unsure of himself, gave a half-hearted cough and began writing on the board.

"This year we will be covering various subjects…" he droned.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this being my last year of schooling. Relief, certainly: I didn't mind geometry or math at all. The rules were all so clearly laid out and while the questions were sometimes tricky it was far better than dealing with English. I wasn't much more imaginative than Minnie, so composition was a chore; and grammar followed no clear rules that I could make sense of.

I thought back to last year, when we were made to give a speech about an event in Canadian history.

"…And so in 1873 Prince Edward Island joined the Dominion of Canada," I finished.

"That was very good, Diana," said Miss Stacy. "Just one comment though – it's 'I saw', not 'I seen'."

I blushed, nodded, and walked quickly back to my seat.

"Anne," I whispered, when Josie started prattling on about some no-doubt uninteresting event, "How many times did I say 'I seen' instead of 'I saw'?"

Anne turned towards me slowly, apparently at least reluctantly engrossed in what Josie was saying.

"Um, not _that _often…just somewhat frequently," she supplied.

"Every time?"

Anne nodded.

I spent every evening the rest of that week repeating "I saw" over and over again.

So I wouldn't have to do any more of that, once school was done. I would, however, have to help my mother with running the household all day. The running the household part wasn't so bad…it was the being with my mother all day part that got to me.

x

"I think having Mr. Barclay over for dinner would be nice," my mother said. "And it's the proper thing to do. We _must _have him over before he gets an invitation from, say, Rachel Lynde."

"I suppose so," I admitted. Mrs. Lynde was a nice woman, of course, but for some reason she and my mother had become rivals, of sorts. I assumed it had something to do with the _blueberry preserve incident_ my mother kept alluding to whenever Mrs. Lynde was brought up in conversation.

"And," she added, "Perhaps you could invite Julia Bell and Elizabeth Wright. It would be nice if he could get to know some young people closer to his age."

"Why don't we invite some boys too, then," I said, already wary of where this was going. "I'm sure that Oliver, and Thomas, and maybe Fred wouldn't mind making friends with Mr. Barclay."

"Oh," faltered mother, "But…that's not quite…"

"You're trying to set him up with one of the girls!" I accused. She sniffed.

"Diana, don't wrinkle your nose at me like that. That is not a facial expression that's becoming on a young lady. Anyhow, there's nothing wrong with that. Those girls are getting older and it'll soon be time for them to think about marriage."

"_Soon_, mother, not right now! And not to Mr. Barclay, certainly. He's such a – a lost…a lost little chick."

"Well then he needs a hen to guide him," she declared. That metaphor wasn't quite right. My mother sensed that I was about to say just that, so she held up a hand to keep me silent. "Not one more peep out of you, Diana Barry. You go invite them."

There was nothing for it. "Alright, mother," I said dutifully. I headed towards the door, but it was too late to avoid what mother said next.

"Oh, and Diana, no funny business to try to get them out of coming. Ask Julia and Elizabeth when they're with their mothers."

x

Lizzie accepted without any fuss, but Julia, being considerably more insightful than clueless Liz, had to be forced into doing so.

"I don't believe this," said Julia, after her mother had gone back into the house. I had found Julia and Mrs. Bell taking laundry off the line.

"Sorry," I said, a bit sheepish. Her facial expression softened.

"That's alright, Diana, don't you worry about it." She finished taking down the last piece of clothing and picked up the basket. "There might not be a way out, but there's certainly a way to make this more entertaining for us."

"What are you going to do?" I asked cautiously.

"Wait and see," she said, with an almost boyish grin. "And sorry in advance, by the way."

"What? Why?" But Julia just smiled and walked into her house.

x

"Diana Barry! Where are you heading off to?"

I was riding my bike on the way to the postal office.

"Just dropping off these letters for my father."

Oliver was running beside me, a bit out of breath.

"Well! That's nice. So, what's this I hear about you having a dinner party?"

"Dinner party?" I pondered aloud. "I don't…oh! You mean the dinner for Mr. Barclay. Very subtle change of subject, Oliver. It's not a party, really, just Mr. Barclay, my family, and a couple of the girls mum invited."

"I heard _you_ invited Lizzie and Julia, not your mum," said Oliver between breaths. "Would you slow down?" he finally exclaimed. I laughed, but obliged.

"Alright, alright. Yes, I did, but because my mother asked me to."

"Well I feel snubbed, Diana. You didn't bother to invite me!"

"That," I said emphatically, "Is because mother _didn't_ invite _you_."

"Maybe she just forgot to invite me," he suggested.

"No, I specifically asked her if perhaps she'd want me to invite you and Thomas and Fred, but she decided not to."

"But that means _you_ wanted me there, though, right?" he prompted. I glared at him and began pedalling faster. "Wait! So, you'd welcome me to a dinner for the new teacher, right?"

"Well, of course _I'd_ welcome you, but…"

"Excellent! I will be at your home this evening then."

"But Oliver-"

"And now that I think about it, I believe 'Freddy' and 'Tommy' are free this evening as well. We'll all be there!" I stopped pedalling and waited for him to catch up, but he stopped right where he was. "Good day, Diana!" he said, and then he ran off the road and through the tall corn that was going there. I couldn't possibly follow him through that and manage to keep my dress clean.

The nerve. He had just invited himself _and _Fred _and_ Thomas! I'd try to find them and dis-invite them, but I knew they'd make themselves scarce until dinner. However was I supposed to explain this to my mother?

'Tommy' and 'Freddy'. At least he had let me know that Julia was behind this.

x

"Mmmmaybe we should make just a _little_ more custard pie, mother," I suggested.

"You've said we should make just a _little_ more of _everything_, Diana," she said, sounding very suspicious. "Now why would this be?"

"Ummm…"

Just at that moment there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," she said, taking off her apron and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. She walked towards the front door.

I was in the kitchen, but could still clearly hear everything that my mother said when she opened the door.

"Oliver Sloane! Tom Strong! Fred Wright! Whatever are you all doing here?"

"We brought food, Mrs. Barry," said Oliver. "We're here for the dinner party. We wanted to introduce ourselves to the new teacher. I think it'd be nice if he had us boys to chum around with, don't you think?"

"Well, yes-s-s…"

"I know we weren't expected guests, so we brought along some food. Which means we'll all be eating smaller portions of everything, but the same amount of food as we would have otherwise, and that's what matters, right?"

Silence.

"Don't worry Mrs. Barry, we didn't make this food, our mothers did."

More silence.

"Well, Fred and Tom's mothers made theirs…my cousin Nancy made mine, but I'm sure it turned out great…I think she likes this new teacher quite a bit."

If my mother were to turn them out, it would of course be technically the correct thing to do; they hadn't been invited. And yet, to turn them out would not be a gracious thing to do. They were, after all, just boys seeking to make friends with the new boy in town.

No doubt Mrs. Lynde would hear of it right away and have the whole incident spread around town faster than the wind. My mother, of course, would be the chief villainess in the story.

"Yes, do come in," she said, with a very thin veneer of politeness. "Diana," she called out, with no veneer of politeness, "Go play the piano and keep our guests busy till dinner is set. Actually," she added, "Why don't we have your sister play instead? Call her down."

I winced. Minnie still hadn't gotten very far in learning to play the piano. I wiped my hands on my apron as I walked towards the stairs.

"Minnie May! Come down here and show our guests how well you play the piano," I said, taking off my apron. Minnie May came scrambling down the stairs and we walked into the sitting room. My mother barely acknowledged me as she walked past me into the kitchen.

Minnie took a seat at the piano and began playing a piece. It was riddled with mistakes, but it mightn't have sounded so bad to someone who didn't play an instrument.

Unfortunately, Tom, Fred, and Oliver all did.

Minnie finished her piece. She stood up and gave a grand bow. The boys clapped enthusiastically.

"Good job, Minnie," said Fred, kneeling down to get to eye level with her. "Don't worry," he continued, very earnestly, "I'm sure Diana made all sorts of mistakes when she was learning. With a bit of practice you'll sound just as good as her."

Minnie beamed. "Thank you, Fred," she said shyly, then turned and fled back up the stairs.

There was a knock at the front door. I walked to it and opened it.

"Mr. Barclay! Welcome," I said, shaking his hand. I gestured for him to step inside. "A couple of our guests aren't here yet, but please, take a seat. Dinner should be ready shortly."

x

Julia and Lizzie arrived a little while later. We gathered in the kitchen, said grace, and dug in. Everyone had a good time, or at least a fairly decent one. Light conversation revealed that Mr. Barclay was from a small town near Summerside. He voted Liberal, was a staunch Presbyterian, and collecting insects was his hobby.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Barry," said Mr. Barclay, once dinner was finished. "You are a most gracious host and I would be honoured if you'd have me to dinner again sometime."

"Of course," my mother said, looking pleased.

"And I especially appreciated the company," Mr. Barclay continued. "Thank you for introducing me to all these young men and women."

"Certainly," my mother said, looking less pleased that Mr. Barclay had somehow managed to enjoy himself despite the presence of Fred, Tom, and Oliver.

With that, Mr. Barclay left, followed by the boys. Lizzie and Julia decided to stay and helped my mother and I clean up.

"I'm glad you invited all those boys, Mrs. Barry," said Julia. "I bet Mrs. Lynde would've only thought to set George up with a young lady and neglect entirely to invite young fellows he could gad about with. Don't you think?"

"Oh, I have nothing but kind words for Mrs. Lynde," my mother lied.

When we had finished I walked with Lizzie and Julia up the Orchard Slope lane to the main road.

"I told you not to worry about it," said Julia. "When have I ever let you down?"

Well, this had been just about the first time Julia had promised me anything. So far, I supposed, she had a perfect record.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: Ha. I didn't really mean to make this chapter all about one dinner! Oh well. Also, sorry about the OC (though now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I also made up Thomas Strong), but the Avonlea schoolkids do need a teacher, after all. Next chapter: More Julia/Diana interaction, an overheard conversation, and other stuff.


	12. Friends, Of Sorts, Reprise

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: _**WDH **_**is going on hiatus and will resume 28 March 09**. Details: Over the next five weeks, on top of readings, quizzes, and problem sets, I have: Midterm, test, research essay, test, research assignment, essay. Apologies! During this break I'll read _AoA_, and also outline where I want this fic to go, exactly, so it won't be totally lost time. Oh, and also sorry for the lack of update last week, will do a double-chapter sometime in April to make up for it.

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **Thanks! It is a girl. Also, concerning your new story: I'll read it as soon as I have time, since I'm enjoying _Sister to the queen_ very much so far! :)

**tvor: **Hmm, me neither. I'll have to think about it, though this is _What_ Didn't _Happen_, after all… ;)

**Naomi Freisen:**Heh, sorry for the missed update and the pause in updating :/

--

Julia and I were walking along the path to school. She, of course, had finished school, but usually walked with me on my daily trek.

"It's just something to do," she had said, with a shrug, and I decided not to question it.

"Lizzie seems to have hit it off well with Mr. Barclay," I observed.

"Yes," she said, "She can't stop talking about George." Then she clasped her hands and looked upwards. "George is so _kind_! He's _so_ handsome, too! He's just _too perfect_!"

"Julia!" I felt a bit bad for laughing, but Julia's imitation of Lizzie was dead on.

She smiled smugly and we continued on our way in silence for a few minutes.

As we neared the schoolhouse, Julia suddenly stopped. I stopped as well and looked at her quizzically. She had a very serious expression on her face. It looked a bit odd on her usually smiling face, and Julia seemed to be having a hard time not breaking into a grin.

"Diana, I'm not upset that Oliver likes you, you know."

The Oliver liking me bit wasn't surprising – I had suspicions for a while, and this just confirmed it. The her not being upset at me bit, however, was something that I had been pondering for a while.

"Well, that's good," I said, awkwardly. "Um…why not?"

"Because," said Julia, drawing herself up, a smile back on her face. "It _is_ possible to like more than one person at a time. Oliver likes you, but he likes me, too."

"Well. That settles it," I said, a bit uncertainly. Julia nodded.

"Indeed it does!"

With that, she skipped off.

"That was strange," I thought, but shrugged it off and entered the school. A few moments later, the teacher walked in. As Mr. Barclay was speaking, I took in the scene.

Billy Andrews and Samuel Boulter were kicking each other under their desks.

Emma and Mamie were exchanging slates, no doubt gossiping about the latest broken friendship or new relationship.

The younger years, who had not yet learned the ways of their elders, were behaving likewise, but even less discreetly. Minnie, though, was diligently paying attention.

I looked out the window. The clouds were gathering; yet another rainy day on Prince Edward Island. I sighed heavily, feeling unexpectedly melancholy.

"Miss Barry, stay in during lunch," said Mr. Barclay.

x

At lunchtime the class was dismissed, but I stayed in my seat as Mr. Barclay had instructed. It was unlucky that I had been the one caught out not paying attention.

"Miss Barry, why were you not paying attention during lessons?" he asked, but very kindly, because we were friends, of sorts.

"I hear things are going well with Lizzie," I said. He turned red.

"Um, well, I certainly hope…" He stopped, frowned. "Diana."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll pay attention this afternoon," I said. "Oh, I might as well tell you now…my mother's hosting another dinner party tomorrow evening, she wants you to come. Elizabeth will be there, too."

"Oh!" he said. "Well, I'll certainly be there. You may go now," he finished vaguely. I smiled and walked out the room, glad that the rain hadn't yet started.

x

Anne and the Queen's crew visited most weekends. Some of us would go down to Carmody to meet them at the train station.

"Ruby's walked home with Gilbert almost every time we've been back, did you notice, girls?" asked Josie. Anne, Josie, Gertie Pye and I were walking together towards Avonlea. I hadn't the faintest idea how they'd manage to tag along, but they had. Being Pyes, they would no doubt turn what would normally have been a very pleasant ramble into an unpleasant conversation battle.

"Do you think they're together?" asked Gertie. I watched Ruby and Gilbert walking a ways ahead of us. They were chatting enthusiastically and we could occasionally hear Ruby's tinkling laughter.

"What about Frank Stockley? Ruby talks about him an awful lot," said Anne, looking determinedly unconcerned.

"But Gil is handsomer. Anyhow, I don't think they're together…Ruby's too young to be decided on any one suitor yet."

"In any case, Anne, I think Frank's chasing after you," noted Gertie. Anne looked at Gertie in surprise.

"Well, Josie's written to me, of course," stammered Gertie, "And it's just from hints and things that I think he's interested in you". Anne continued to look nonplussed. "In any case," added Gertie defensively, "I think your life's real interesting Anne. And any of your lives in Charlottetown is far more interesting than any of our lives here in poky Avonlea."

"That's not what _I_ heard," said Josie, raising an arch eyebrow. "Diana, it seems your life's been interesting lately."

"Oh?" asked Anne, "Do tell, Diana. Your letters tell me everything of Avonlea but nothing of _you_, dearest. I have to be here in person to prod it out of you, it seems."

"I've just been taking part in Avonlea's happenings, which I've already written you about Anne, that's why," I said, unsure of what Josie was getting at. Something malicious, to be sure.

"So you've told Anne about your suitors then?" goaded Josie.

"Suitors! Now I must hear everything, Di". Anne turned to look at me with a small frown, telling me _That Josie knows about this before I do is unacceptable_.

"I suppose there's been one or two boys chasing after me, but my mother says—"

"But you must tell Anne which boys, Diana!" interrupted Josie.

"Sam Boulter, for one," I said, hoping that by giving a name I throw them off the trail.

"Well _that_ I already knew about," said Anne, laughing with slight relief and amusement.

Josie, of course, had to butt in. She shook her head and turned towards Anne, grabbing her arm. "Would you _believe_ – Fred Wright and Oliver Sloane!"

_Fred Wright?!_ When had that happened?!

The expression on my face must have said as much. Anne looked at me, then turned back towards Josie.

"Diana doesn't seem aware of this development, Josie," she said.

"Well, she didn't know about Fred…that's _exclusive_ information, you know…but she did know about Oliver. I think that J—"

"Wait," interrupted Gertie, who had up to this point been listening in rapt silence. "I thought Julia liked Oliver?"

I wasn't sure how privileged this information was, so I hesitated to share it, but Josie had no such qualms.

"Oh she _does_. Really, Diana, what are you thinking? _I _think you just encourage him, from what I've seen. And Julia being your best friend and all…"

This, too, was news to me, and to Anne and Gertie as well.

"What?!" they both exclaimed. I opened my mouth to deny this but Josie _would _be faster with words.  
"I just assumed it, though I guess I shouldn't do such things," she said, raising her hands up to forestall any counterclaims. By this point we had stopped walking altogether. We were at the outskirts of Avonlea.

"I mean," she continued, "It's just you've been chumming with her a lot, lately, Diana."

"Well _yes_, but—"

"I…I've got to go, girls," said Gertie, rather abruptly. "I've got something to drop off at Julia's…I'll be round your place right after, Josie," she finished, and then ran off towards Julia's house.

Julia and Gertie's "best-friend"-ship was intense…when they were friends. When they were _not_ friends, it was equally intense, but less positively. But even when they were in those not-friends times, everyone knew that they were still best friends to the core.

I couldn't recall if they were friends or not, at the moment, but either way, this confrontation was bound to go badly.

"Julia's not my best friend," I blurted out, in the middle of whatever Josie had been saying while I was considering Gertie's departure.

"Oh, sorry, I guess I got the wrong impression, then," said Josie, who always managed to use even apologies for her own ends.

x

I was walking down Lovers' Lane, heading towards Anne's house. But I noticed Anne and Gil up ahead, walking away from Green Gables. On impulse, I scrambled into the woods and hid behind a tree. I debated the ethics of eavesdropping, but while I was doing so they approached my hiding place. I heard snatches of their conversation.

"You're bound to get it, Anne," said Gil, with supreme confidence. "That Avery Scholarship's good as yours! Emily is certainly talented and hardworking but you are just extraordinary, Anne."

"Thank you, Gil, it means a lot to me that you'd say that," replied Anne warmly. "Priscilla and Stella are always telling me it, but it's different, somehow, coming from you."

Different, "somehow". Anne was bright, but sometimes the girl couldn't get any dimmer.

And there were Priscilla and Stella, again. I _knew_ that I'd always be Anne's first and foremost bosom friend, and vice-versa, of course, the way one knew that the sun would always rise tomorrow. But sometimes one worried that maybe tomorrow the sun _wouldn't_ rise.

I couldn't help it. Jealousy always seized me whenever I read or heard the names Stella and Priscilla.

"I'm surprised Priscilla's not in consideration for the Virgil Award," said Gilbert. "She's got such a knack for Classics! We pore over Aeschylus, Thucydides and Demosthenes like mad, but with one read Priscilla understands them all."

"She certainly does have a knack for it," said Anne, with a gay little laugh, "But she'd rather imagine castles in the sky than study."

"Anne! You manage to study hard _and_ dream and imagine."

"Oh, you wouldn't understand, Gil," said Anne, waving a dismissive hand. "Priscilla and I understand each other. You just don't know how hard it is to tear oneself away from the fairy fantasies!" Gilbert remained silent for a moment before Anne gave in. "Oh, alright, and she's also quite the little social butterfly, alright?"

"I knew it!" crowed Gil, crowning himself victor.

Gil and Anne had passed me as they were talking. I silently slipped out of the woods and onto the lane, and then casually walked a little ways.

"Anne! Gil!" I shouted. They turned around and waved at me. I sped my pace and reached them in a few more moments.

"Diana! Where did you come from?" asked Gil.

"I was just rambling through the woods," I said carefully. "Oh! And I was going to Green Gables, Anne."

"What a coincidence, Diana! I was going over to Orchard Slope to see if you were there." She linked arms with me and waved at Gilbert. "I'll talk to you another time, Gil!"

"Alright Anne," he said, and then tipped his hat at me. "And I need to catch up with you, too, Diana."

I nodded and he left, cutting through the woods for a shortcut to the Blythe home.

"So let's talk, Diana!" said Anne merrily, and we walked towards Green Gables.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: I think Diana's been hit with senioritis, and also that she's learned from the Oliver Sloane School of Changing Topics. Oh, and it might not look it, but I love Josie, and will some day 3-dimension-alize her. No worries, Anne + Diana = BFFs for life, but I had to address the separation issue.


	13. Verbal Fencing

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Hello all! I've still got one essay left to write over the weekend but after that all I have to do is study for exams. (Though I have to ace these exams to get a decent GPA…sigh). Anyway, updates are back to the regularly scheduled one-per-week!

**tvor**: No Mr. Barclay this time around, though he will certainly be making an appearance in the next couple of chapters. A few boy troubles indeed, though that won't be all that troubles her…no, she cannot catch a break :)

**Naomi Friesen**: Thank you! I'm very touched by both the compliments and the understanding. But school is almost over, thankfully (…until the summer session starts D:) so I'll definitely have more time.

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn**: You're welcome, and thanks! Yes, I certainly think so...long-distance relationships are always hard, whether with a significant other or with friends…and even family! Speaking of, my niece's name is Kaitlyn :)

--

"Well of _course_ I didn't believe Josie _Pye_," said Anne, with a slight eye roll. "Oh! Not that I think she's untrustworthy just for being a Pye, you know," she added quickly.

"No," I said, with a laugh, "I think she's untrustworthy just for being Josie."

We were in Anne's little room. Marilla was downstairs in the kitchen, baking some bread and goodies for Anne to eat. Anne had offered to help, but Marilla had taken mild offence to that.

"I'm not as mean as that, I'll have you know. I can appreciate that somebody who studies hard as you needs a break. Go up to your room with Diana and I'll fetch the two of you when I'm done here."

So here we were, sitting on the bed. Since it was late fall, the sun had set quickly and early.

"The best atmosphere to share intimacies in is in low light, Diana," Anne had declared, and instead of turning on the gas lamps she had lit a single candle. The flame now cast long shadows on the bed and on our faces.

"You've gotten a bit wickeder, Diana!" said Anne, grinning. "I wonder where that's from? You couldn't have picked it up from Oliver, by any chance?"

I could feel my face heating up and could only sputter.

"Anne!"

"Diana! _Do_ tell, about Oliver Sloane – _and_ Fred Wright!"

"Well I really don't know _what_ Julia was talking about, with that Fred stuff…"

"I'll keep an eye on him at Bible study tomorrow evening – I can't have him galloping off with my Diana without knowing what his intentions are!"

"I never knew you to be such a gossip, Anne," I teased. "You make it all sound positively scandalous."

"It's not gossip when it involves you, Di darling! This is just me looking out for my dearest friend…but speaking of scandalous, I notice you're still avoiding talking about Oliver."

"You imp!" I said, hitting her with a pillow. She laughed but didn't retaliate. She was not to be sidetracked. I huffed a bit, and buried myself deeper under the blankets. "Fine! There's not much to tell, really. I've noticed him giving me some looks, and we end up talking a lot, though I think he's also interested in Julia."

"And, as has been made abundantly clear, Julia is interested in him," Anne said, with a wave of her hand. "But what about _you_?"

"What about me?"

"Well…what do you think of Oliver Sloane?" she pressed.

"I think he's a nice fellow," I declared. "He and Julia would make a nice match, I think Oliver can keep up with her."

Anne stayed silent for a few moments. "So…I guess that means you aren't interested in him?" she finally asked.

It struck me that I didn't really know the answer to that. I shifted around for a few moments, trying to get more comfortable, and hoping Anne would say something else. But she for once managed to remain silent.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But enough about that," I added in a hurry. "What's this that Josie says about Gil and Ruby?"

"Oh, that," said Anne vaguely. Then she grinned. "Now _that_ would be gossip." She stood up and straightened her skirt. "Come along now, Diana, I think I hear Marilla calling."

x

"But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be entire and perfect, wanting nothing," recited Mr. Josiah McDougall. He was leading the Bible study this evening, and was doing a fairly good job at it. Anne, sitting a few chairs away from me, listened with rapt attention. I felt a bit guilty at being more distracted by the things of this earth, but I couldn't help it.

Especially not with Thomas and Oliver sitting directly behind me.

"Old man McDougall wants me and a couple more boys to help him put up a fence around his pasture. You in?" whispered Oliver.

"How much?" Thomas whispered back.

"A dollar."

"Yes, I'm in. Shall we get Fred in on this too? I heard he's saving up money."

"What for?"

"He wants to buy his father's farm out."

"He's making us look bad! What's he going to do that for anyway?" grumbled Oliver.

"I hear he's wanting to be married early, and looking to make quite an impression on a certain girl…"

"Which girl?"

"She's sitting in front of us."

"No! I can't let that happen. What should I do, Tom?"

"Walk her home!"

"But this is Anne's last visit here before the winter comes, she'll want to walk home with her."

"Then you, me, Anne and Diana will all walk home together."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Just at that moment Mr. McDougall finished his discussion and the Bible study ended. I quickly turned around, but couldn't think of anything to say, so I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips.

"No worries, Thomas my dear fellow. She looks mad right now, but our boyish charm will let us get away with anything," said Oliver, with an unfortunately charming grin.

Anne popped up at my side.

"Thomas! _Oliver_. How nice to see you two again!"

"Anne!" said Thomas, before I could get a word of warning in. "It certainly is nice to see you again. You know, I've been meaning to get to know you better…you seemed so interesting in school, and you're a friend of Diana's so clearly you're of a superior specimen of maidenhood."

Anne blinked, unsure of how to respond to such an odd statement.

Oliver now swooped in to make the kill. Clearly, they had practised this.

"Same here! Let's be friends, yes? Having Gil hog you all the time might raise some suspicions. Shall we walk you young ladies home? Let's take the long way, too, since it's such a beautiful night outside…it seems like God is smiling down on us, with all these stars."

Offer of friendship: Check. Dig about Gilbert being her only male friend: Check. (A somewhat awkward, unclear and cliché) admiration of the night sky: Check.

"Well, certainly!" said Anne, her eyes brightening about tenfold. "Oh! Um, if Diana doesn't mind."

She turned to look at me. Of course, the only person with the power to deny Anne when she was like this was Marilla, and even she had a hard time doing so, it seemed.

"I don't mind at all," I found myself replying. I cringed a bit, but it was too late now. Off we went.

For Anne, boys were in one of two categories: The "Gilbert" category, where Gilbert was the only person who comprised it, and the "acquaintance/escort home" category, which included every other boy. Oliver and Thomas had quite forcibly made themselves a new category, "friend".

Typical! They just had to be the special ones.

Anne was good at dealing with new situations, but still needed time to readjust to this. So she remained mostly quiet, allowing the terrible duo to make me the centre of attention.

"I hear you've got someone intending to court you, Diana," said Thomas, calculatingly casual.

"And I hear his name is Fred Wright," added Oliver.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm not even old enough to court, and my father says no girl of his will marry before she's twenty."

"Twenty will be here in only a few more years, Diana," said Thomas.

"In those years, Fred will win the favour of your parents."

"He's a bit serious but at least he treats everyone nicely, and by then he'll have the farm to his name…"

"…and some money stored up…"

"…and though you might not love him, you at least like him."

"You won't have any choice but to marry him," they finished, in a chorus.

They had _most certainly_ planned this.

"I most certainly will have a choice! I decide who I marry."

"But you're such a good girl, Diana," noted Thomas, almost absent-mindedly. "You always listen to your parents…unless…you've ever gone against their wishes?" he finished, in an almost scandalized tone.

"No! I've never…" I blurted out, but then frowned when I realized what he had just gotten me to admit. "In any case, they wouldn't force something like this on me."

"Your father wouldn't," noted Oliver, in that same tone Thomas had used. "But your mother…well, she wouldn't _force_ it on you, really. Although, I wonder how you deal with daily guilt and baleful glares?"

Anne sent me a doubtful look. I grimaced.

"Well, maybe I _will_ fall in love with him," I said. The boys sent me incredulous looks, though Anne looked pensive. "Who can know the future? I barely talk to him now, but maybe if I talk to him more I'll grow to like him a great deal.

"Or, another option will be presented to me. Maybe someone else, someone equally pleasing to my parents, will want to court me."

This sounded reasonable to me, and apparently to Anne, too, since she was slowly nodding, although she did look as if she were starting her ascent into a far-off world.

"Maybe," said Oliver, sullenly. We walked in silence for a few moments.

"So," said Thomas, sounding only the slightest bit awkward, "How's Queen's and Charlottetown, Anne? I've only been once, with my father, but I didn't get to see much of the city…we were just in the outskirts for the cattle auction."

"Oh! It's splendid…lots of pomp and circumstance, our province's capital, and all…and the buildings are beautiful," she said, smiling, as we passed by Mr. George Yeager's somewhat dilapidated house. "But Avonlea's got a charm that Charlottetown is missing."

The boys weren't used to Anne's wistfulness any more than Anne was used to their boyish mischievousness. Thomas looked a bit taken aback, and Oliver looked puzzled.

"But Queen's is wonderful," she added. "There's such an air of academics there, you know, like…that feeling you get, the second week of the school year, when you've been in long enough to get into a comfortable groove, but the atmosphere is still one of being excited to learn, to study, to attain knowledge…it's like that all the time, at Queen's – well, especially with the First Class – and with the red-brown stone and lovely gray walkways and oh, there's this wonderful little courtyard beside the library, with a fountain bubbling, and I can't wait to see it in the spring time. I almost wish I had decided to take two years there, just so I could be at Queen's College for two years, but of course I haven't the money and I really do miss Matthew and Marilla."

"So you'll be back by this spring?" said Thomas, miraculously managing to get a word in.

"Yes. Gil, too. It'll be nice to come home to Avonlea in the spring, Charlottetown hasn't much in the way of June lilies but Avonlea should be teeming with them when we get back."

Conversation continued in this vein until we finally reached Orchard Slope, where we said our goodbyes. I headed inside, feeling slightly uneasy.

x

"Anne! What is this?" I asked, stepping into Green Gables.

"It's an invitation, silly," she said. She was sitting at the kitchen table, Bible open before her (it being a Sunday), looking very serene. I, on the other hand, was looking very flustered, holding a slip of paper in hand.

"But…why?"

"Well, Marilla says that it's been a while since she's had a somewhat fancy dinner, and that in the couple of days that I've been here she really misses having…what did she call it?...that 'youth spirit' around, 'hopelessly naïve though it may be'."

"What's with this invitation list?"

"Well it is a fancy dinner, after all…one can't have one without an invitation list. So I spent all of yesterday evening after I got home helping Marilla write these up. I'm just sorry I won't be able to be there."

I sighed, a bit exasperated, and slumped onto a chair.

"Really, Anne. Oliver, Thomas, Fred, Sam, Julia, Gertie, and Minnie? Then there's the Allans, the Lyndes, and my parents…just what is this?"

Anne held up her hands.

"Look, Diana, I really didn't have anything to do with this. Marilla came up with this on her own, after I told her about that conversation you, Oliver and Thomas had last evening."

"Are you sure you didn't have anything to do with this?"

"I promise. I think Marilla just needed some amusement, and realized this was the perfect opportunity to get it."

"Well, maybe I just won't be available that day," I said, tentatively.

"Maybe, though that means that Oliver and Julia won't come, which menas that Thomas and Gertie won't come, and then Marilla will be left with Minnie, Sam, and Fred as the people providing her with hopelessly naïve youth spirit."

"Anne, you wicked child," I sighed. "Fine! I'll go."

--

A/N: Unfortunately I will not be writing out the dinner party this time around, though the after-effects will certainly be discussed (or implied?). A couple of more chapters of the gang away at Queen's (featuring Fred and possibly Josie) in this drama-comedy style, and then we will be very very close to the end of _AoGG_, which will probably be a little melodramatic. No worries, though: _WDD_ continues through _AoA_ and possibly _AoI_.

I wax eloquent through Anne about Queen's College because the location used for the film happens to be a very pretty part of my university :D


	14. Circular Logic

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I missed last week! I have no excuses. In other news, I read _The Handmaid's Tale_ by compatriot Margaret Atwood, it was pretty good! Also, in other other news, my exams finish May 5, which is pretty soon. I'm thinking of writing a short (13 chapters max) Anne fic over the summer and then posting it up in the fall. But I'm debating between 1) French Revolution Anne (or maybe some other period, but 'historical', in general); or 2) modern-day high school Anne, with elements of fantasy (like her dryads and nymphs, etc). Any comments/ideas/etc?

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **Thank you! :)

**tvor:** Thanks, it's nice to be missed :D

--

I watched Minnie May play the piano. Her hands weren't yet big enough to properly play some of the chords, but she was doing pretty well overall. If only she would watch her form.

"Minnie May, sit up straight, and watch your pinky," I said, for what must have been the tenth time. I was trying very hard not to get frustrated, and wasn't exactly succeeding. Being a teacher, I determined, required a level of patience that I just did not have.

"Diana, _when_ will you get those dishes washed?" my mother asked, as she walked into the sitting room.

"Soon, mother, soon," I said, feeling guilty about having forgotten all about them. "Honest. That reminds me, Mrs. Harold Johnson says she'll give you her china when she moves to Alberta, and also strongly hinted that she'd like you to invite her for a last dinner, one that features veal as the main dish."

Mother huffed. "That's just like Emma, she can never do something for nothing, even for an old friend. Oh well…now who would be willing to part with a lamb this time of year?"

"Diana, Diana, I did it, I didn't make any mistakes and I kept my pinky down the whole time," said Minnie May.

"That's very nice dear," I said, while thinking of who would be willing to slaughter a lamb so close to spring. "Oh! Mr. Sloane, maybe," I suggested.

"No, Mr. Sloane is liable to give me the skinniest lamb he can," my mother replied, frowning.

"Oh…well, how about Mr. Wright?"

"Hmm, perhaps... go see if he's willing to part with one. I'll take care of the dishes."

"Mother," I said, while I fetched my coat, "A whole lamb for some dishes?"

My mother got a somewhat determined look on her face. "Those dishes were my great-grandmother's, and she brought them all the way from England. How Emma's grandmother got her hands on them I'll never know."

This still seemed like more effort than that china was worth, but it wasn't up to me. I pulled on my hat and went out to brave the elements. It was a rough winter, which hopefully meant a nice spring was on the way.

I arrived at the Wright's and knocked at the door. No one answered. Mrs. Wright must have been out, I assumed, so I went around the house and walked towards the barn. I spotted Fred and Mr. Barclay standing at the entrance, looking cold but chatting animatedly.

"Fred! Mr. Barclay!" I called out. They looked up, noticed me, and waved me over.

"Diana, how many times must I tell you?" said Mr. Barclay, when I had approached. "Call me George outside of school, you make me feel like I'm actually old."

"Sorry," I said. I put my hands into my coat pockets. "It's freezing…aren't you two cold?"

"A little bit," said George, "But that's alright…Fred's just showing me some of the basics of farming."

"Farming?" I asked, perplexed. Why would George want to know about farming? Perhaps he was putting together a lesson for school…though seeing as all Avonlea kids knew quite a bit about farming, this still left me perplexed.

Fred noticed my baffled expression. "George means to become a farmer," he stated.

"A farmer," I repeated. This only left me more confused. "But I thought you already had a profession, George."

"Yes," said George, "But I'm losing the taste for it. I haven't quite got the patience for it, I think…those younger children just do not settle down! So I was thinking of buying some land here and farming instead of teaching."

"However will you fund such an endeavour?" I asked.

"My father – he's a lawyer, back in Toronto – says he's willing to lend me the money to buy some land and materials here if I can guarantee that I'll pay him back in ten years."

"George," I said, a bit uncertainly, for I didn't mean to offend him, "Unless we are blessed with exceptional crops, none of the farmers around here make tremendous amounts of money."

"That's alright," said George, "Ten years, I think, is long enough to collect the money I need to pay off my father, and after that…I'm sure I'll be happy so long as I'm in Avonlea. This is a nice little place."

"The darlingest," I said loyally. "Though after Toronto and Charlottetown, I'm not sure how you ever got used to this small town."

"The people here make it easy to adjust," said George, "And anyhow I never liked the big cities, even though I grew up in them."

I nodded. "Oh, but - maybe you should learn from a more experienced farmer? No offence to you, Fred."

Fred rushed to reassure me. "I'll be taking over part of this farm soon, Diana!"

"No doubt," I said, "But maybe your father would make a better candidate for teaching George how to start up a farm…I hear he's the one who started this farm here."

"Perhaps," he said, seeming to mull it over.

"Speaking of which, where _is_ your father? I knocked at the house, but no one answered."

"He and my mother are off visiting some relatives in Carmody," replied Fred. "They let me stay here to watch the house. They'll be back in a fortnight."

"Carmody! I guess I'll have to ask Mr. Sloane, after all."

"Ask him what?"

"Well my mother needs to make some veal so she was hoping to buy a little lamb off your father."

"Needs to make veal?" said George, sounding mystified as to why anyone would be required to make veal, specifically. The story, I decided, was a bit too ridiculous to explain, so I just smiled and shrugged slightly.

"…I'll sell it to you, Diana," said Fred.

"Oh!" I said, a bit surprised. "Thank you. Won't your father mind?"

"No," replied Fred, "I'm sure he won't. Come to the paddock with me, I let them out so they'd get some fresh air but I should drive them back to the barn."

Ever since that fancy dinner, Fred was able to talk to me more freely. He still remained a bit serious, though, especially in comparison to Anne and Gil, let alone Julia and Oliver.

On the plus side, I was unlikely to ever get roped into any schemes or social events when talking with Fred.

I chose a lamb and paid Fred.

"Should I bring him over to Orchard Slope now?" asked Fred.

"No, I don't think my mother wants to cook him just yet," I said. "I suspect she'll want it on Saturday but I'll check and get back to you."

"Very well."

"Are you heading home now, Diana?" asked George.

"I suppose…" I said, cautiously.

"What if you popped over to Julia's place real quick? I'll go with you."

I sighed. George's infatuation with Lizzie could not be any more obvious, and fortunately for him, Lizzie was clearly open to his interest. Even at Bible study they would make eyes at each other.

But I decided then and there that I would do everything in my power to support their romance. I was growing dimly aware that although I was only 15, my romantic prospects were quickly dwindling down to a Sloane, or an overly-serious young man. (And Sam Boulter, who I hardly ever remembered to include as a prospect. I could count the number of times he had mustered up the nerve to actually speak to me.)

I imagined Oliver and Fred with sleeves rolled up, hats thrown to the ground, fists up, engaged in a modern-day duel over who would win me. They were both healthy farm boys, though, so I couldn't tell who would actually win in a fight like that.

"Or…I guess…maybe not?" said George.

"Oh! Um, no, certainly, let's go visit Julia."

Fred declined to go, since he needed to stay at the farm until the Wright's hired boy returned.

x

Unsurprisingly, Lizzie was visiting Julia. Gertie was there, too.

"Hello Julia, Gertie," said George, "And Elizabeth! I had no idea you'd be here. We were just over at your cousin's, you know."

Julia and Gertie exchanged amused looks at George's less-than-subtle greeting.

"My cousin? Fred?" asked Liz.

"Yes, he is teaching me about farming…" said George. "Mr. Harold Johnson is moving, and I am thinking of buying out his farm so as to establish myself in this community," he finished, and only a little pompously.

"Well, next time you visit him, do tell him that his cousin wants her pattern back," commented Liz.

"A sewing pattern?" asked George, sounding a bit confused.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Lizzie," said Gerte, a bit hesitatingly, "You lent your sewing pattern to Fred?"

Lizzie nodded. "He wanted to make something for his mother's birthday, but he said that all the patterns he has, she's already seen."

"So Freddy likes sewing, eh?" said Julia. "We should invite him to our next Sewing Circle, we wouldn't want him to feel left out, would we, Diana?"

"Certainly not," I replied automatically, but then my thoughts caught up to my words. "Wait. Julia! Since when have we had a Sewing Circle?"

"Since now," she declared.

--

A/N: Julia, I have missed you. A short chapter, I know, but next time we get the Sewing Circle, and letters. Chapter after that, Queen's Crew returns to Avonlea. In case you didn't notice, this chapter is somewhat foreshadowing-heavy.


	15. Sewing and Letters

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Yeah, just call me Thomas "Consistent Updater" Walkman. I'm finally done exams, at least, though my summer classes start on Monday. But yeah, back to regularly scheduled updates.

**manda2784: **Hope I can keep things interesting :)

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **Thanks for your input! I'm leaning towards the modern times one for this summer, but I'm fairly certain I'll get around to doing a historical fiction one eventually, maybe next summer.

**tvor: **Thank you! I'm rather looking forward to writing it…and I promise it'll be so well-written that you'll never be able to read another _WDH_ chapter without cringing at the comparative lack of quality ;)

**SilentlyRead:** Thanks so much for your input, it's quite helpful! I'll be sure to keep what you've said in mind as I write.

**msemoglasses:** That is exactly how I felt when I first stumbled onto the Anne section of ff :) Thanks for your kind words!

--

And that is how I ended up being part of the Avonlea Young Ladies and Gentlemen Sewing Circle.

"That name seems a tad long, Julia," noted Gertie. "AYLGSC. No…what if we called it…Avonlea Villagers Improving their Sewing Society?"

"AVISS?" said Julia, sounding mighty skeptical. "Don't be silly, Gertie, that's hardly dignified. Besides, we want to keep this strictly for young people, or certain women might get notions in their heads to join in."

I wasn't entirely sure how Julia had roped Fred into taking part. So, I asked her.

"Diana," she said, with an air of immense superiority, "Some day, you will understand the mysteries of how women get men to do things they otherwise would not. But you are not yet old enough to grasp the intricacies…"

"Oh, do lay off, Julia," said Lizzie, "You're hardly older than Diana." She turned to me. "I'm fairly certain that Julia just informed Fred that you'd be there, and strongly suggested that you'd appreciate him being there as well."

Reprimanding the irrepressible Julia would have very much the same effect as telling Anne not to head into flights of fancy at dusk. I huffed a bit but decided to ignore her and check on the berry pastries. We were in the Bells' kitchen. Their kitchen was small, made to seem even more so by the dark red wallpaper and the dark brown furniture.

It was also crowded, with so many of us in here trying to finish the baking. According to Lizzie, we had to have delicacies at hand to nibble on, or it would not be a proper social affair. How we were supposed to eat and sew at the same time was beyond me.

Privately, I assumed that Lizzie was attempting to showing off her skills in the kitchen to George. Unsurprisingly, he, too, had decided to join the AYLGSC.

"And how did Alice Strong decide to join?" I asked. "How did Alice even find out about it?"

Julia sighed. "That's what I get for ever telling anything to Oliver. I told him about it, and for some reason he felt compelled to tell Thomas about it as well, who of course told Alice."

There wasn't anything wrong with Alice, really. She was Tom's sister, in her mid-20's, unmarried, and somewhat of a wallflower. She was also somewhat awkward, as if she always felt exposed when talking to people or even walking down the road. Perhaps Thomas had suggested she join the AYLGSC to help her with that. But I had the feeling that Julia wanted to keep it strictly to myself, Lizzie, Gertie, George, Fred, and herself.

"Lizzie, Gertie, would you take what we've finished out to the parlour? We've kept the boys – and Alice - waiting a while…Julia, would you help me carry in some drinks and these pastries when they're finished?" I asked.

"Certainly," replied Julia, who went to the cupboards to take out some cups. Lizzie and Gertie dutifully gathered up the plates on the table and walked out of the kitchen.

"Alright, what is it, Diana?" she asked, once they had left.

I wondered how she knew I wanted to talk to her, but decided to save my energies and address the more pressing question.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Don't be suspicious of my motives, Diana dear. I only wish to have a bit of fun with the boys – sewing! Can you believe it – and we're always so busy we hardly get to see each other all at once. With the AYLGSC we'll all get together once a fortnight, at least."

Her words weren't entirely convincing, but there was a reason Julia managed to get away with so many of her schemes. She just seemed so entirely un-conniving in manner and expression.

"Alright," I said, relenting.

"Anyway, I've got to go down to the cellar to get some cordial. And," she noted, "I think your pastries are done."

X

The chairs in the parlour were arranged in what was supposedly a circle, though it came off looking more like a heptagon. Behind Liz there was a large table with all the refreshments. In the centre of the heptagon there was a smaller table with our individual servings of the food and drinks.

"Alright, I have this sewing pattern from my mother," said Gertie, holding up a few sheets of paper. "She said she got it from a relative of ours who is a friend of a friend of a seamstress in Paris. She's famous for her designs, you know, though I don't quite recall her name."

I had neither Anne nor Oliver around to exchange _can you _believe _the Pyes_ glances with. I turned to Alice, but she was busy attempting to stare a hole through the floor. Julia was too good a friend to Gertie (most of the time), while Lizzie and George were too busy making eyes at each other (again). I looked over at Fred, who was indeed looking at Gertie a bit doubtfully, but I couldn't manage to catch his eyes.

"So, Alice," goaded Julia, "Tommy tells me good things about you. He says you're quite the accomplished painter."

She finally looked up, revealing blank brown eyes.

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "But, um, I'll be sure to thank him for the compliment."

"Well," said Julia, not put off at all, "Ollie's over at Tom's often, I hear, and he says your paintings are really good."

"I'll be sure to also thank him," said Alice, who, while she was certainly looking in the general direction of where Julia was sitting, was most certainly not making any eye contact with her.

"Do you think we could see your paintings sometime, Alice?" asked Julia, who seemed rather adamant about getting Alice to open up.

"No, I don't think so," said Alice, blushing. "Sorry…"

Julia bit her lip, trying to think of another subject to bring up. Alice returned to staring determinedly at her sewing. She put the needle aside for a moment and looked intently at the pattern, looking like she was having some trouble figuring it out.

George had apparently managed to look away from Lizzie long enough to notice the awkward silence.

"Never mind that, Miss Strong," said George, doing his best 'affable, approachable teacher' voice. "I heard that…" But he trailed off, and looked around the circle, hoping for someone else to step in.

The problem was that nobody had heard anything about Alice, or knew anything about her, other than that she painted, and was Thomas' sister. Most of Avonlea was currently populated by those 20 and under, and those 40 and over. Mrs. Lynde didn't always pick up everything about the "in-betweens", as it were. Plus, Alice kept mostly to herself.

"Your cat," said Fred, suddenly. "Is he doing quite alright, now?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," said Alice, looking up again.

There was no context to this conversation. We all looked at Fred quizzically, but it was Alice who answered.

"Fred noticed my cat, Bill, hacking at the side of the road, and Bill was choking…so Fred helped him spit up the hairball, and returned him to me."

Having never been a cat owner, I didn't want to imagine how Fred helped a cat spit up a hairball. Still, this was apparently a fairly impressive achievement, considering the amount of gratefulness in Alice's voice.

"That's awfully nice of you, Fred!" said Lizzie, also thoroughly impressed by her cousin. "George," she continued, "Do you like cats?"

George kept his face admirably neutral, but there was panic in his eyes. He quickly glanced at Fred, hoping for some cues, but he was looking at the wrong person. Julia had stealthily stood up and walked behind Lizzie, ostensibly to fetch more water from the pitcher. Julia waved her arms to catch George's attention and vigorously nodded her head, mouthing "yes".

George looked at Lizzie again and looked relieved after noticing Julia's unsubtle hint.

"Yes, of course! My family had one, when I was really little, but my brother was looking after it one day and a dog -" he stopped, noticing Lizzie's slightly upset face, and realized that perhaps a morbid story was not quite what she wanted to hear. "But, um, we got a new one! And I had to leave her behind when I moved to the Island because my father wanted to keep her and…I miss Anthony so!" He stopped, looking a bit embarrassed by his somewhat passionate statement.

"Anthony is…your cat?" asked Julia, who was now sitting again.

"Yes."

"Your _female_ cat?" asked Fred, baffled enough to voice a question.

"Well…my parents let me name her…and I really wanted a boy cat, so I named her Anthony, because I thought that might make her be a boy." A pause, and silence from the circle. "I was ten!" he added defensively.

"Alright, we're not getting any sewing done here," said Gertie, who smiled and shook her head. She pointed at Fred's pieces of cloth, already well on their way to becoming a unified outfit. "Except for Fred."

I realized that I hadn't even looked at my pattern and picked it up, but noticed Julia doing the same. She threw me a sheepish look.

"You'll gain as much from this sewing circle as you put into it, Miss Barry," said George, in a mock-stern voice.

"Yes Mr. Barclay," I droned in response, and threaded my needle.

x

That Monday I headed to the post office. My father regularly got the newspaper and several farmers' newsletters, while mother sometimes received mail from family in Alberta. I was delighted to see that I, too, had received mail. I walked home while reading the letters, managing not to walk into anything. I opened Anne's first.

_Dearest Diana,_

_I can't tell you how much I look forward to returning to Avonlea! I hope the violets are blooming by the time I return – we'll have to go to Violet Vale as soon as I come home, Diana. By the way, I managed to find a copy of _Thrift_, it's enclosed in the envelope. I feel simply awful for spilling that pot of honey on Mrs. Cooper's copy last time I visited; do give this to her with my sincerest apologies. _

_Ruby has been telling me that I must get around to picking something to wear for commencement, but I've hardly the time. If you've got any advice for me on that matter, it'd be much appreciated. I've been studying for finals. Perhaps – maybe – I can win the Medal, or even…the Avery scholarship! That would be grand, but I've stiff competition, so I can't let up. I'll see you soon! By the way, Jane and Ruby say that they'll send you a letter after finishing their Classics exam –they've been studying for it like mad, and it's driving them absolutely batty._

_Yours forever,_

_Anne Shirley_

I thought about Anne's wardrobe and decided to tell her to wear the white organdy that she had worn to the concert. It was far too delicate to be worn as an every day affair, but it was just the thing for a commencement. I put the letter back into the envelope, looked at the small stack in my hands, and decided to open Gilbert's next.

_Dear Diana,_

_I hope things are going well for you. I can't write too long a letter, there's lots of studying left to be done, but I thought you'd like to hear from me a least one more time before I return to Avonlea! I've been studying hard for the Medal – it's strange, Diana; I want her to win, but I also want to win. If only we could have a repeat of the tied for first incident. Maybe Lewis Wilson will get it? I guess we'll see. Maybe she'll get the Avery, though I hear another girl's almost got that one clinched._

_I walked Ruby to church this Sunday, but I am afraid she is getting "romantical" notions in her head. Fortunately for me, Frank Stockley is doing his best to sweep Ruby away from my clutches._

_We'll be home soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_Gilbert Blythe_

There were two reasons Gil would lave attention on Ruby. One, to help himself by making Anne jealous; two, to help Ruby by making Frank jealous. Knowing Gilbert, it was probably a combination of both, and most definitely done subconsciously. The next letter was Josie's.

_Dear Diana,_

_We've been doing well here at Queen's. Charlottetown is grand and I'll certainly miss it but Avonlea has its charms for some, I imagine. At least school will soon be finished and I'll be able to teach. _

_Here's the latest from Queen's, Diana: Gilbert walked Ruby to church this past Sunday, if you can believe it! I do think they'd make a nice pair. Our final dance was last week. Moody missed his chance to ask Jane to the dance. She'd certainly make a good minister's bride, docile as she is. Anne hasn't been very social with us lately, though she does hang about those two friends of hers, Stella and Priscilla, an awful lot. I can't see why she'd prefer their company over that of her Avonlea chums, but I suppose an aspiring writer needs to broaden her horizons._

_I'll fill you in on all _my_ going-ons when I see you in Avonlea._

_Josie Pye_

Yet another interesting letter from Josie that left me fuming but feeling informed. Josie was the epitome of Pye-ness. The last letter was from Moody. He didn't write to me nearly as often as Anne, Gilbert, and the girls did, but it seemed that distance had let him see me as a strange sort of confidant.

_Dear Diana,_

_I am quite concerned about the history exam. How am I supposed to remember such small details? I'm hopeless at this. I think Jane is rather good at history, perhaps I could ask her to help me…what do you think? There was a sale at a milliner's a little while ago, they're closing down, and I bought a cap. It was a bit of a splurge but maybe it was worth it…Jane said that she liked it and said it de-emphasized my ears. Is that a good thing? I'm thinking of letting my hair grow a little longer, but it might not be befitting of a minister._

_Hope all is going well with you and with Avonlea,_

_Yours,_

_Moody_

Moody had also gotten it into his head that I was somehow a good source of advice concerning romance. I really did have to figure out a way to get Josie to stop discussing my supposed romances with others. Where did Josie even get this information about Fred and Oliver? That was a silly question, I could almost finish the line myself…_from Gertie who heard it from Julia who may or may not have heard from either Lizzie or Oliver, depending on the subject_.

I decided to take a detour to Violet Vale. The plants there were indeed budding, and would certainly bloom in a few weeks. I sat down on a large, somewhat jagged rock, and thought about Anne and Gilbert's letters. If she _did_ get the Avery, she'd be able to go to Redmond. I felt a bit sad at this concept – being away from her for one year with semi-frequent visits was bad enough, but for four years with only the major breaks in the summer and at Christmas would be terrible. But of course, I wouldn't want her to miss such an opportunity.

Enough brooding. I walked back to the main road and headed to Mrs. Cooper's to give her the book Anne had sent.

--

A/N: The AYLGSC, otherwise known as the Awkward Moments Circle. I realize that "in-betweens" aka tweens is what we call preteens, but I don't think that term was in popular use until the 90's, right? And yet another OC, Alice Strong, it's like I can't resist. Turns out that TS Eliot wrote a cute poem called the Naming of Cats. _Thrift_ is a book by Samuel Smiles, written in the 1800's, all about how middle-class people are thrifty and therefore better than the lower class. Josie is the queen of backhanded insults/compliments, I think.

Next time, the Queen's class finally returns!


	16. Tell A Tale

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Yes, another update on time! I am getting back into the groove, guys. Some dialogue at the end is lifted straight out of _AoGG_ chapter 36: "The Glory and the Dream".

**tvor:** Hmm, who knows? Fortunately for you, he features heavily in this chapter and has much impact on Di. Which will hopefully make up for what will be a dearth of George appearances in the next few chapters D:

--

The last day of classes arrived. It was the warmest day in May yet, and the windows framed a tempting portrait of hills of green and trees filled with dainty, light- and bright-coloured blossoms.

In essence, getting the class to focus on anything related to school was a lost cause. Even George himself looked like he would rather be running around outdoors than in a loud, crowded classroom. While he never paused in the lectures he gave to the various classes, he frequently glanced at the door.

Finally, about an hour and a half into the school day, he gave a short sigh, and then paused, staying silent for a few moments. The class that moments before had been filled with conversation and grasshoppers running down the aisles, became silent and grasshopper-less. Clearly, George – or Mr. Barclay, rather – was about to say Something Momentous.

"Class," he said, "It has become clear to me that most of you are unable to pay attention today, and of those that are, I am sure that none of you will remember any school-related material I teach you on this last day."

Several of my classmates nodded, and I found myself nodding along.

"Indeed. A few final words, then, before I leave you all to your own devices. First, I would like to make an announcement. I will no longer be teaching at Avonlea school."

Most of the girls promptly burst into tears, while the boys broke out into a hubbub of gossip. George looked stoically on, and waited until the class once again became silent, punctuated only by a few sobs.

"But fear not. I will not be leaving this fine town. Instead, I will stay here, and run my own farm. You are all welcome to visit at anytime," he said.

This got the girls to finally stop sobbing. Only a few tear tracks remained.

George allowed the pause to grow longer. He looked around the class, with an air of immense gravity, as if he would soon reveal the secrets of life that had eluded us for so long. Perhaps he should have been the play director for this year's Christmas performance, instead of Mrs. Cooper. He certainly had a heretofore undiscovered flare for the dramatic.

"A few more moments of your attention. I will now attempt to impart on you that which I have learned in my long years on this earth. Perhaps you young folks have felt as if something, an essential understanding of life, has been eluding you for too long."

Oh. Now I remembered where I had gotten the description from. Before school, George and I had met in the lane in front of the schoolhouse and he had told me that he planned on making just such a speech.

"No longer shall it elude you!" he said, raising his voice just a tad, keeping the younger children enthralled just from sheer performance ability. "Here is what I have learned: If it is within the morally acceptable bounds that Providence has dictated, and if it will not cause undue harm to others, follow your heart!"

Of course. Though the qualifiers he had added to the time-worn piece of advice were certainly correct, they bogged down his speech far too much. I noticed some of my classmates exchange bewildered glances.

It was still a somewhat stirring speech, though, and I felt that George deserved some appreciation for his year of hard work at the Avonlea school. So I stood up, and deciding to contribute to the drama of the entire affair, I clapped very slowly and deliberately, and gradually sped up.

Fortunately, I didn't feel like I stuck out like a sore thumb for too long. Soon, others joined in, and eventually George received a full standing ovation. George shed a single, manly tear.

I hung around the schoolhouse until the entire class had cleared out. George walked outside and waved at me.

"What did you think, Diana?" he asked, as we walked down the road.

"That was certainly something of a spectacle," I said. "I quite enjoyed it, but whatever did you do it _for_?"

George smiled broadly, and a little dreamily. I immediately understood, before he had even said a word.

"An era is ending, Diana," he said. "In the Story of George Barclay, I mean. I have left one career, and will soon be starting another."

"…Have you proposed?" I asked carefully.

He shook his head. "No," he replied, "I'm not quite ready for that, yet. I have to get the farm running respectably, first. But in two years, Diana, when I have gained some experience. I'll do it then."

x

It was a grey morning, but that was only because it had rained the night before; I had no doubt that the sky would clear by the afternoon, and I hoped that the sunny weather would carry on until the next day. If Providence wouldn't give Anne and I a rainy day for our "tragical" parting, I reasoned, we should at least get a sunny day for our long-awaited reunion.

I knocked at the door.

"It's Diana," I called out. A few moments later and Marilla opened the door, looking moderately surprised to see me.

"Diana Barry, do come in child. If you want to make yourself some tea, do go on right ahead. I'd do it myself, but I've some preparations to finish," she said, in her usual brusque-but-secretly-congenial manner.

"Thank you, Miss Cuthbert," I said, reaching for the kettle. "You'll be leaving in the early morning, I imagine?"

"Certainly, child," she said, as she passed by the kitchen. She was in constant movement, walking rapidly from one room to the other.

I filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove.

"Miss Cuthbert, don't worry about anything on this end," I said, a bit tentatively. "I'll take care of things here…if you'll let me," I hastily added.

Marilla swept into the kitchen again, but this time paused.

"Well," she said. "Well. If you wish to do so, then I certainly appreciate any help I can get, Diana."

I smiled, glad that my offer had gone over well.

"Gladly," I replied.

x

The next day was thankfully a sunny one, good weather for commencements and reunions both.

"I hear that Jane's been offered the Newbridge school," said Gertie.

We were at Green Gables, keeping the house clean and preparing food for Anne, Marilla, and Matthew. I imagined that they would be tired and hungry after such a long day. Julia and Gertie had offered to come in the afternoon and help with the preparations.

This was before Julia and Gertie had yet another falling out. They hadn't had one in such a long time – not since March – that I was getting optimistic, but it was too good a stretch to last. But most of the other times, the reason why they were not getting along was clear cut. This time, I had but the vaguest idea, and Gertie refused to clarify.

"They're fighting over me," said Oliver, succeeding once again in reading my thoughts.

"No, we're not," spat Gertie. She turned towards me. "What is Oliver even doing here, Diana?" she whispered, though it was loud enough for Oliver to hear.

"Well, I couldn't very well turn away someone offering help," I said. To my surprise, Oliver was actually helping. He was over halfway through the bag of potatoes that I had told him to peel.

"I am here to keep you ladies entertained," he replied. "What would you talk of without me here? Just gossip, of course. Meanwhile, I talk of serious issues! How are your father's crops doing? What do you think of the Premier's rather scandalous speech? How does God want us to lead our lives? Etcetera, etcetera," he said.

Gertie was clearly not in the mood to be amused.

"What do you think of that, Diana?" she asked. I momentarily panicked, unsure of whether she was referring to Oliver's odd reasoning or to Jane's being offered the Newbridge school. After a moment of thought, I decided that Gertie had probably opted to ignore Oliver.

"That's very nice for her!" I said, and winced as I saw Gertie's expression and realized that I sounded condescending. "I mean it," I hastened to assure her.

Gertie looked sceptical but continued on. "Yes, it certainly is. And I've heard that Gilbert's going to teach, too – at Avonlea!"

It was convenient for him, then, that George had decided to quit. I then realized that this meant Anne would have to be teaching somewhere else. Hopefully it wouldn't be too far. I wondered who had White Sands.

"Have you heard anything from Anne?" Gertie asked, apparently picking up on Oliver's habit of mind-reading.

"No," I said, shaking my head, "Not for a fortnight at least, anyway. She's been embroiled in studying for finals."

Oliver put the next batch of peeled potatoes on the table. I began chopping them into little pieces. Gertie stood at the stove, occasionally stirring a concoction she had cooking in a pot. I was entirely sure what it was, or if it was edible, but I wasn't brave enough to ask her, considering the mood she was in.

"_Really_? Josie wrote me just a few days ago, you know. And, she told me that Anne found plenty of time to hang around with her Queen's friends."

Gertie was nice enough, most of the time, but sometimes her Pye-ness broke loose and went on rampage. Maybe that's why Julia and Gertie kept having falling outs. Perhaps Julia could only stand a certain amount of Pye for a certain amount of time before needing a break. The Bells were good people.

"Yes. Well." I couldn't think of anything more to say, though, so I glared at Oliver for not helping me in what was amounting to a strange verbal sparring matching. He shrugged, looking somewhat comical with peeler in one hand, potato in the other.

I started smashing the recently chopped bits of potato, and thought back to the short conversation Marilla and I had just before she and Matthew left for Charlottetown.

"You may invite some friends over to keep you company, Diana," said Marilla.

"Oh, it'll be great fun," I started, but noticing Marilla's less-than-approving expression, I changed the adjective to a less jolly one. "I mean, it'll be fine, I'm sure, Miss Cuthbert. Julia and Gertie have already volunteered to come help me."

This was turning out to be even less jolly then even "fine" was.

I looked at Oliver, who was staring intently at his work, and then at Gertie, who was paying attention to the stove, but seemed distracted.

Something strange happened, then. I recalled what I admired most about Anne – more than her creativity, her ability to charm everyone, and her constant self-improvement. I recalled what George said, about his Story, and the eras. And I thought of my story, and how the "era" I was living in so far seemed to be the era of Diana's Passivity. It all came together. It was time for a new era, for me.

"Oliver," I said, "Would you be so kind as to pick some apples? I'd like to give these mashed potatoes some spring flavouring."

"Certainly," he said.

After he left, I turned to Gertie.

"Gertie," I said, "If you and Julia have some problems that I can help you with, do tell me," I said. "Otherwise, I'd appreciate it if you would have your normal positive attitude while helping me here. If you can't do that, then, thank you for your help, but I'd rather do this alone, and we can talk some other time."

I paused, waiting for Gertie's response. But she looked more than a little stunned, and I decided that I might as well go talk to Oliver.

Outside, Oliver was hanging off a tree-branch, his hair ruffled, his cap having fallen to the ground. He had laid a basket underneath the tree, and was apparently tossing the apples into the basket from his height. Most of them had made it in.

"Oliver! I didn't need that many apples, though thank you," I said. He let go and dropped down to the ground, landing in a crouch. He doffed his hat and bowed exaggeratedly.

"My pleasure, milady," he said, and picked up the basket. "Shall I bring these in?"

"Please, do," I said. "But first," I added, as he picked up the basket, "I have a question for you."

"Sure?" he prompted.

"Oliver, what are you doing?" I asked. He looked confused and I huffed at myself for asking this question so awkwardly. "I mean, in regards to me," I added.

He stayed silent for a few moments. "Umm…" he finally said.

"You had better figure it out, Oliver," I said, "Or Fred'll be crowing about how he won against you in wooing a lady."

"Fred doesn't boast. Besides, there's no way that'll happen," said Oliver, all very matter-of-fact. He grinned and walked back into the house, while I could only clench my fists in frustration. I walked back into the house shortly after, and noticed that Gertie was indeed still there.

"I'm sorry, Diana," she sighed. "No one can really help us right now," she continued, "But I appreciate the sentiment. Let's put it aside for now and get this finished, shall we?"

Now it was my turn to be taken aback by her reaction. I had expected to come back and not find her in the house anymore, but Gertie had taken a decidedly un-Pye-ish path.

"So, Gertie, what are you making?" I finally asked.

She held a finger up to her lips. "It's a secret. Passed down to me by my grandmother, all the Dylan women" – Gertie's mother was born Harriet Dylan – "have learned it. It's the Dylan Family Recipe."

I had decidedly low hopes for how this would turn out, but I had been surprised several times already this day, so perhaps there was a glimmer of hope after all.

I glanced over at Oliver. He was whistling and still staring intently at the potato in hand. He had almost finished the pile.

x

That evening Anne arrived at Green Gables. Marilla promptly shooed us up to Anne's little room, instead of letting us help her with setting the supper plates. I suspected that it was mostly because Anne and I would not stop with the incessant and unnecessarily loud talking.

"Oh, Diana, it's so good to be back again," said Anne, who picked up the single rose that Marilla had set on the window-sill. "It's so good to see those pointed firs coming out against the pink sky – and that white orchard and the old Snow Queen. Isn't the breath of the mint delicious? And this tea-rose – why, it's a song and a hope and a prayer all in one. And it's _good_ to see you again, Diana!"

I couldn't help it. All the insinuations by Josie and Gertie and the constant mentions of Stella and Priscilla in Anne's letters had left me irrational.

"I thought you liked that Stella Maynard better than me," I blurted out, and in quite a different tone than I had meant. "Josie Pye told me that you did. Josie said you were _infatuated _with her."

Anne, being Anne, just laughed and threw her commencement bouquet at me.

"Stella Maynard is the dearest girl in the world, except one and you are that one, Diana," she said. "I love you more than ever – and I've so many things to tell you."

I, too, had so many things to tell her, especially my epiphany earlier in the day. But before I could quite formulate a sentence to say, Anne continued on.

"But just now I feel as if it were joy enough to sit here and look at you. I'm tired, I think – tired of being studious and ambitious. I mean to spend at least two hours tomorrow lying out in the orchard grass, thinking of absolutely nothing."

There was nothing for it, then. Anne certainly deserved a mental break, and embroiling her in my Avonlea affairs would not give her that. I decided that I could wait at least another day to have serious conversation with her.

"You've done splendidly, Anne," I said instead. "I suppose you won't be teaching now that you've won the Avery?"

"No, I'm going to Redmond in September." This dismayed me, but I did my best, and I managed not to let it show. "Doesn't it seem wonderful? I'll have a brand-new stock of ambition laid in by that time after three glorious, golden months of vacation. Jane and Ruby are going to teach. Isn't it splendid to think we all got through even to Moody Spurgeon and Josie Pye?"

"The Newbridge trustees have offered Jane their school already," I informed her. "Gil's going to teach too, I hear. He'll have Avonlea, now that George is gone."

"Yes," said Anne, very slowly. "That's very nice for Jane, of course. And yes, Gilbert told me." Anne was not as good as I at hiding her dismay at the thought of being separated from a loved one.

--

Reviews are always appreciated!

A/N: 1. Man, that first part was hard to write, full of flowery text. I like to think that George, as a teacher and as a son of a lawyer (and therefore most probably a lover of literature), thinks of his own life in terms of a sort of story.

2. The third part was also hard to write, first because it was kind of meta, and second because apple trees are not ready to be picked until late summer/early fall. I'll come back and fix this when I find an appropriate fruit tree/vegetable crop.

3. Also, concerning the last part: this is what I get for not reading _AoGG_ carefully. Miss Ames was apparently the teacher in Avonlea pre-Anne. Sorry, Miss Ames, you have been supplanted in my story by one Mr Barclay.

4. Next chapter, and I think we all know what will happen in it, is one that I've been looking forward to writing. It'll almost definitely be shorter than this one.


	17. A Death in the Family

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Things have been going well, so I have nothing to complain about to the Internet!

**tvor: **I do think Anne was exhausted from school, especially since she was doing that intensive course! And thank you…I picked Diana because she has enough character and stories to give me a structure to work in, but she is also quite open to development.

**manda2784**: Thank you! I hope you are enjoying the consistent updates, I am quite proud of that ;)

**SilentlyRead**: Thanks, the sites are very helpful. It looks like nothing but asparagus is picked in May so I will have to cheat a bit by changing the apples to cherries and saying they ripened early :P Reading it again, you are correct about the epiphany. Thank you for your input, it's quite helpful :)

--

The Queen's scholars had now been back for a day, and certain member of the Sewing Circle had deemed that sufficient amount of rest and relaxation. We had therefore organized a 'welcome back' party for this evening. It was to be held at the Pyes' – Josie, of course, would have refused to come otherwise – and Julie, Gertie, Liz and I had agreed to meet in the afternoon to ready the food and add a few decorations.

So, I spent the morning getting all my chores finished, to avoid complaints from my mother.

"It's nice to see you being responsible for once," she said, observing me as I dusted the piano. I could only sigh quietly as she continued on with her lecture. "You know, if you could get this amount done in just a morning, you should be able to get twice as much finished on a regular day, don't you think?"

"Yes, mother," I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Unsuccessfully, apparently; she frowned and shook her head. After a moment's reflection, I realized she was probably correct...well, maybe not twice the amount, but at least a little bit more. Minnie May was growing up, and had become quite a handful. I could probably spare more time than my mother could.

"Sorry," I added. "It's just the heat; I've never known it to be this hot in May."

"You're right about that, Diana," she said, sounding much friendlier now that I had agreed with her. "It's a good thing you young folk like to have your get-togethers in the evening…finish dusting the piano, Diana, and then you may be off."

"Oh! Thank you, mother. I'm just about done here."

"Not so fast, Diana," said my father, walking into the room. I frowned, hoping that he wouldn't make me run "one last errand" that would undoubtedly turn into about five errands.

I turned away from the piano to look at him and was immediately struck by how…_sad_ his face looked. This startled me quite a bit, as he his expression was usually so very neutral.

"What's wrong, dear?" my mother asked, rushing over to him.

He sighed, and dropped on to the nearest chair. He rubbed his hands over his face while my mother awkwardly patted his head, unsure of what the problem was.

Finally, he looked back up.

"Matthew Cuthbert has died! It happened just a little while ago. I'm going to Carmody to get a decent coffin for the man."

"Oh my…Go to White Sands, I've heard that Mr. Johnson has started to sell coffins too, he'll have one ready made."

"Alright," said father. My mother then turned to look at me.

"We had better head straight over there, Diana."

"…Yes," I agreed, feeling a bit dazed.

We headed out of the house, my mother and I towards Green Gables, my father towards the stables. As we walked, a million thoughts ran through me head.

When had my mother and Marilla ever gotten along? Was this a case of being a good neighbour, or had they become better friends when I wasn't looking? I quickly stopped that somewhat self-centred train of thought and instead thought of Anne. Matthew was quite possibly the first person to show her any love, and to call him a father figure wouldn't quite capture everything he was. How would I feel if my father died? I would cry for days. My thoughts then turned to Marilla. The Cuthbert siblings had grown up together, in that house, for…however many years. No matter how bratty she could be, I would be devastated if Minnie May died.

I growled in frustration at how my thoughts always came back to how _I_ would feel. My mother looked at me oddly, but said nothing.

"Mother, what will we do when we get there?" I asked.

"We'll do the million little things that Miss Cuthbert and Anne will be too distracted to do," she said. "And we'll stay the night," she added, with a surprising forcefulness.

We reached Green Gables and to my utter surprise I found Anne rather placidly talking to Mrs. Lynde. Meanwhile, Mrs. Andrews was trying to comfort Marilla, who was quietly sobbing.

I looked to my mother.

"Mother, should I…"

"You go talk to Anne, dear," said my mother, who hurried over to prevent Mrs. Andrews from saying anything careless.

I walked over to Anne and Mrs. Lynde.

"Yes, please, do," said Anne, apparently finishing a conversation. Mrs. Lynde nodded.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Anne, just leave it up to me…oh! Diana, you're here. I'll leave you two to talk," she said, in that extremely kind manner of hers she sometimes had. She left in a bustle to do whatever she had said she would.

"Anne…" I started, and could barely continue. My throat started to get sore and I could feel my eyes starting to water, but I was determined not to cry in front of Anne. "I'm very sorry for your loss," I finished lamely.

"Thank you, Diana," she replied, very sincerely. "It…only happened just a little while ago," she continued, sounding a bit defensive. "I'm not really sure…" She trailed off.

"Um, father has gone to Carmody…or maybe it was White Sands?...to get a coffin for you." Something about that sounded off. "For Matthew, I mean." I internally cringed, hoping that mentioning his name wouldn't start a bout of tears, but Anne remained expressionless.

"Mother and I will stay the night, if you like," I continued. "We'll take care of everything around here."

"I'd appreciate that," Anne said.

"How about I gather some flowers, for Matthew," I said, desperate to help.

Anne looked startled, then blinked a few times, and she finally looked anguished, though she remained tearless.

"Thank you, but…I think I'll do that," she said.

I nodded gravely. "Yes. Well." We stood in silence for a moment. "Anne…" I caught myself in time to not ask 'are you alright'. "If there's something I can do for you…I mean…" I stuttered instead.

"Having you and your parents helping us is doing enough for us, Diana," she replied. It was all a bit worrisome, but I decided that there wasn't much more I could do at this moment just by talking to her.

"I'll get to it, then," I said. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her in silence for a few minutes. Finally, I drew awayback, nodded solemnly, and walked towards Green Gables. I looked back and noticed that Jane had arrived and was now talking to Anne.

My mother had finished talking to Marilla. I spotted her in front of the door. She waved at me and I walked towards her.

"Mother," I interjected, before she could begin issuing directions, "I'm heading to the Blythes' house. I haven't seen any of them here yet, so I doubt they've heard."

Mother looked surprised, but quickly nodded.

"Yes, do."

I scurried off and ran towards the Blythe household, doing my best to not think at all. I arrived fairly quickly and knocked at the door. Nobody answered, so I went around back to the field. Gilbert was working in the field, but he was too far away to notice me.

"Gilbert! Gilbert!" I called out, and waved my arms above my head. He looked up, turned towards me, and started trotting in my direction.

"Hello, Diana!" he said once he reached me, with his usual cheerfulness. He had his sleeves rolled up, had dirt on his shoes, pants, and hands, and his hair was matted down on his head because of the sweat.

"Hello, Gilbert," I replied, significantly less cheerful than he. "I've come with some bad news. Matthew has died."

"Mr. Cuthbert?!" he said, sounding as shocked as I was when I first heard.

"Yes," I answered, nodding.

"My parents are visiting cousins in Carmody," he said. "I'll leave them a note…I'll be right over."

With that he dashed in and out of the house. I pushed him back in with an admonition to clean up at least a little bit. He came back out with a change in shirt and a cap on his head to hide the sweat. With that, we headed back to Green Gables. More people had arrived, and I felt a bit heartened to see how apparently all of Avonlea was pulling together to help and to say goodbye to one of its members. It was unfortunate that it had to be for such an occasion.

x

That night, sleeping next to my mother, I woke up to some noise. Muffled as they were by the doors and walls, I could still here Anne and Marilla in the east gable room, crying. It was a while before I could fall back asleep.

x

Two days later Matthew's funeral was held. Those two days had seemed agonizingly long…my mother and I visited Green Gables on both days. We made sure that Anne and Marilla ate at least once a day, and limited the number of people that came in to offer words of comforts. Their intentions were good, of course, but Anne and Marilla clearly wanted to be left alone, with few exceptions, Mrs. Lynde being a notable one. Gilbert and Thomas were two other ones. To my surprise, it seemed that Anne and Thomas had indeed struck up a friendship. The boys came over to take care of the animals and continued with the seeding that Matthew had been doing.

The day of the funeral, the weather conspired to present a setting that was far too cheerful: the sun shining, a comfortable temperature, a light breeze; birds chirping, the scents of lilacs and lilies in the air…

And there we all stood, in our black funeral clothes, mourning the loss of a man that hardly anyone paid attention to. I felt somewhat guilty because of this – I liked Matthew quite a bit, but he was painfully shy, and all my attempts to talk to him were fruitless.

My father had reminded me, though, that I was there to support my friend, and that even if I hardly knew him, I was well within my rights to mourn someone who had clearly been a good man.

Speaking of my father, he nudged me right at that moment. I blinked and he pointed his chin towards Mr. Allan, who was in the middle of a prayer. I cringed and immediately shut my eyes and dropped my head.

"…we may rest in Him, as our hope is this our brother doth, and that we may at least receive the blessing, 'Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' Grant this, we beseech Thee, O merciful Father; through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen."

"Amen," I repeated.

x

After that, I visited Anne as often as I could. I hoped that the visits would allow her a few moments of not thinking of Matthew. It seemed to work well enough, though there were moments where Anne lost track of a conversation mid-way through, or got a very guilty look in her eyes.

"So I don't know what to do," I finished.

"Guilty? Maybe she's feeling guilty that she doesn't think of Matthew every moment of the day anymore," said Julia. It was close to dusk and we had been talking for almost an hour already, but it was only now that I finally brought up the topic.

This whole time we had been leaning on the fence surrounding the Bells' property, but it was starting to get uncomfortable. I signalled towards her house and we walked towards the porch, leaving her time to think of what to say.

After a visit to Anne I had quickly gone through my list of friends and decided that Julia was the best option to discuss this with. Gilbert would probably just head straight over to Green Gables and try to comfort Anne himself; while I had the feeling that someone like Jane or Gertie would simply avoid such a morbid conversation piece as best as possible.

We got to the porch. I sat down and Julia went into the house. She brought out two lanterns, put one on top of the railing, and hung the other one from the awning.

"Diana, Anne is probably feeling a lot like these lanterns right now," she said, sitting down next to me. She pointed at them with her usual dramatic gestures.

"On the one hand," she continued, "She's like that one," and here she signalled towards the lantern hanging from the awning, "In that she feels stuck. She's on top of the world, but all she's doing is attracting moths. On the other hand," and here she pointed at the one on the railing, "she's…" But the lantern on the railing proceeded to slide off the railing and fell in front of our feet. She lunged for it, checked to see if it was broken, and then set it upright on the chair next to her. "…falling off a crooked railing that I've told my father to needs to be fixed."

I laughed at her failed example.

"That metaphor wasn't even going to make sense anyway," I complained, "I mean, 'all she's doing is attracting moths?'"

Julia huffed.

"My metaphor would've been great. Let me try a different tactic, then. You found that funny, right? Did you also feel guilty about laughing in the middle of an important conversation about your dearest friend?"

I thought about this for a moment, then shook my head.

"Not especially, no…it's just something funny that happened to…well…happen." Besides, having an actual serious conversation with Julia was almost impossible. Something like this was bound to happen.

She huffed again.

"Alright. Then let's _pretend_ that you felt guilty about it. You can conceivably see why someone _might_ feel guilty if they found something funny in the middle of a _very_ serious conversation, right?"

"I suppose," I said, still a bit unsure. I would probably feel more awkward then guilty.

"Well, then magnify that times a hundred thousand. It's like Anne is having a deadly serious conversation every day with Mr. Cuthbert, but sometimes she finds something funny in the middle, and eventually her attention slips away from the conversation more and more…does that make sense?"

With that, our conversation turned into a discussion of the levels of non-sensical-ness that Julia could reach. After a bit more talk, I went home. On the way there, I decided that what she had said _did_ make sense. But I realized that I would never truly be able to understand it, until I went through it myself.

--

A/N: 1. I never found Matthew's death especially sad when I first read it as a kid…I've re-read _AoGG_ basically every year since, and every time I find the scene more moving.

2. So close to finishing the _AoGG_ portion, guys! This was fun, but I am double-plus excited for _AoA _and especially _AoI_.

3. Next time: The return of the Queen's class gives me an even bigger cast of characters to deal with. Diana thinks of the future. There are more conversations. There may or may not be foreshadowing.


	18. On the Offensive

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I've got two midterms this Tuesday. Gross. This past weekend I went to a museum, a 52-room restored mansion from the 1890's. I don't imagine that Anne's house is nearly as opulent but I have a better sense of layout and decoration – lots of friezes, for instance.

**tvor**: Oh gosh I didn't even think of doing that! That would've definitely been interesting, although I will tell you now that Matthew is alive and well in the modern-day fic I'm working on.

**manda2784**: Thank you!

--

"He's given up the school for you? I think that's romantic," I declared to Anne, as we were walking to the Debating Club. Now that I had finished school, I had been invited to join. Eager to find legitimate ways to occupy my time outside of the house, I quickly accepted. Father, of course, was ecstatic: he was almost embarrassingly fixated on politics to the exclusion of all else except his farm and his family. A Tory through and through, he took every opportunity to lambast the Grits.

Unfortunately, I had to hear a lot of this, since I was a dunce at politics and had to ask him to explain everything to me.

"Laurier will ruin us all! Now Tupper, he was the right man for the job. He would've never let French into the Manitoba schools. English is the language of this nation, Diana, you hear? No matter what the Quebeckers say."

"Not _romantic_, Diana, just friendly," replied Anne, bringing me back to the present. I shook my head resolutely.

"Listen, Anne, I'm your _best_ friend, so I may have done the same for you, but I doubt someone like, say, Jane, or Charlie, would've done the same."

"Diana dear, you are out of your mind," she said, giving me a light shove. I laughed and indignantly pushed her back.

"Speaking of romantic, here comes Oliver Sloane, holding a bouquet of flowers. I wonder what he could want? I'll just go ahead to the Club and let you two talk…"

"No, wait, Anne," I said, grabbing onto her sleeve, but she slipped out of my grasp and jauntily walked away.

I couldn't help but sigh. Every conversation I'd had alone with Oliver since that day at Green Gables was awkward – on my part, at least. On his part, he seemed as carefree as ever.

"Diana Barry! Fancy meeting you here. I was just on my way to the Debating Club and happened to pick up these flowers. Here, you take them," he said, shoving them into my arms. The bouquet consisted of a clashing array of half-wilted yellow dandelions and red roses.

"Oliver, these are from Mrs. Cooper's rosebushes, aren't they??" I gasped, mildly horrified. I quickly looked around, making sure that the dreaded woman wasn't nearby. She would throw a fit if she found out that her precious flowers had been stolen.

"Maybe, Diana, maybe," said Oliver, putting on a mysterious air. I glared at him, but he just laughed.

"Anyhow," he said, waving off any and all of my concerns, "Let's walk together."

I didn't really have a choice, since we were heading in the same direction, so off we went.

"Listen, I've a favour to ask of you," he said, sounding nervous. Oliver was rarely in such a state, so I wondered as to what kind of favour this would be. "I was wondering if you'd talk to Anne, about Charlie."

"Talk to Anne. About Charlie?" I repeated.

"He's a nice enough fellow…I know he isn't all that charming, but he's been head-over-heels for Anne since they were just kids."

"Um…" I knew I had to tread carefully here. Like many men, Oliver was hesitant to openly show any sappy affection for his family, but he truly did want to protect and take care of all his family members. "Here's the thing…I don't think Anne would ever be interested in him."

"But she's never really talked to him," he argued. "He's really smart, you know, and I know Anne likes smart people. She shouldn't judge him without knowing him…it's not like he's a Pye, or anything."

"No, but he is a Sloane," I retorted. "Uh, um, I mean," I stuttered, horrified.

"What?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes. "Diana Barry…" He grimaced and shook his head. "Please tell the others that I won't be able to make the meeting this evening," he said, and then stalked off.

"Oh dear me…" I mumbled. I looked up at the sky, smacked my forehead, and let out a frustrated yell.

x

After the Debating Club, the first person I consulted with was Anne.

"You _did _insult his entire family, Diana," said Anne.

"I know that," I replied, frustrated as ever.

The surroundings weren't helping my mood either. The Avonlea hall was an ugly piece of work. Unfortunately, Anne was leaning against its wall, so I had no choice but to look at it.

"You need to apologize, then," replied Anne. "Imagine if Gilbert had never apologized to me…and that was for a relatively harmless comment."

"Maybe I wouldn't have spat that out if I hadn't been so frustrated with him," I said, crossing my arms. "I already asked him to be a little clearer about his purpose, but he hasn't been at all."

The crowd was also getting annoying, with the loud chatter and the jovial atmosphere. I realized I was being silly – how _dare_ anyone else be happy? – but I couldn't help it.

"A bouquet of flowers, Diana, that's fairly clear."

"A bouquet of half-wilted, stolen flowers, perfectly clear. Didn't Gil give you some flowers just yesterday?"

"Well, that was for…my cow's birthday," she defended lamely. I huffed. "I'm not exactly experienced in dealing with this sort of thing, Diana," she continued. "Maybe you should ask Ruby, it looks like she's got no problems with the boys…I hear she's been gadding about with Sam Boulter, lately."

"Sam Boulter? No! Whatever for?"

"Who knows?" Anne replied with a laugh. "Probably just for fun, that's just her way."

The crowd was beginning to disperse, and only a few people were left hanging around the building, notably Gilbert and Charlie.

"Maybe you just need a male perspective," recommended Anne, arching a brow. "Gil might be able to help."

At this I burst into incredulous laughter. "He's no good at this sort of thing either, trust me on that," I said. Anne frowned and I could almost see her brain working at purposely _not_ getting my implications. "But you're right about the male perspective, I think," I said, tapping my finger against my chin. "Oh! Or maybe you could talk to Oliver for me?" I pleaded.

A look of indecisiveness crossed Anne's face, but quickly after she looked resolute.

"No," she said. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Well, I know you're not that close to Oliver, I suppose it could be awkward…Maybe you could talk to Thomas for me and he could talk to Oliver…"

"Diana! No! Go talk to him."

I sighed. There was nothing for it.

x

"So what do you think, Thomas?" I asked.

"I think Mr. Garrison has got to stop eavesdropping!" he shouted. I froze and heard some bushes rustling behind us. A few footsteps, and suddenly the place became quiet again.

Thomas was hard at work on harvesting the summer crops, and I felt a bit guilty for asking for a few moments of time. But he gladly accepted the chance for a break and we were now sitting near under a tree, to the side of the Strong farm. It divided the Strong's farm from Mr. Garrison, who was a querulous man and as such always complained about property boundaries. It had taken a whole month for Mr. Strong and Thomas to plant that tree line.

"Did he hear everything I said?" I asked, worried.

"No, just that last part," said Thomas. "I've gained the skill of hearing people sneaking about, he always does this."

"Huh. Anyhow."

"Yes, anyhow. All I can say is: Diana Barry, you idiot."

"I didn't come here for name-calling," I said petulantly. "I came here for advice. You're Oliver's best friend, right? I know I've got to talk to him…what should I say?"

"You should just apologize," he replied, with a shrug.

"Will he…accept my apology, if I 'just' apologize?" I asked.

Thomas lay back on the ground, putting his hands behind his head.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. But there's nothing else you can really do, is there?"

I considered this option. I could just not apologize to him, ignore it altogether, and try to go along with business as usual…but, our friendship would be no longer, and he'd probably avoid me as best as possible. I couldn't think of any extravagant way to apologize, or anything I could do to make it up to him…so a simple apology really was my only choice.

It was time to put my new 'taking sound, active life choices' philosophy into action.  
"Yes, you're right," I said, standing up. "I'm going to go, right now. Thanks for your help, Thomas."

As soon as I stepped out from under the tree cover, it began to rain.

Ah, the Maritimes.

"You can stay here until it lets up, if you want, Diana," offered Thomas.

I paused for a moment, then shook my head. "No, I've got to go right now if I'm going to do it at all," I replied, aware that I had a limited store of courage. I had gathered it all up and had to put it to work for me right at this moment, or it'd be weeks before I could gather it all up again. "Thanks, though."

With that, I walked towards the Sloane house. At least I wasn't ruining a good dress, though my mother would still yell at me for a good half an hour, probably.

I arrived at the Sloanes' door with dress and hair completely soaked. I must have made a pathetic sight…perhaps that would make Oliver feel sorry for me.

The door opened, and I hadn't even knocked, so this surprised me a bit.

"Uh…hello!" I said. "Is Oliver here? I need to speak to him for a moment."

Nancy Sloane, Charlie's younger sister and Oliver's cousin, looked at me with suspicious eyes. I might have imagined it, but she seemed a bit disdainful of me, too.

"Well you can't come into the house like that," she said. "You'll get the floor all wet. Go to the shed," she pointed. I looked to where she was pointing and there stood the most decrepit little shed that had ever existed, with only two walls and the roof filled with gaps.

"Fine. I'll wait there."

I strode over to the shed and leant against the workbench. What possibly purpose could this structure serve? All the tools in here were rusted.

"Diana," said Oliver. I looked up and there he stood, looking grim and unforgiving as possible.

"Oliver," I said. "Look, I'm really sorry about what I said about your family name. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," he said, frowning. "Listen, Diana, I know us Sloanes aren't the best-liked people in Avonlea or on the whole Island, really, but…certainly not at the Pyes' level!"

"I…"

"Anyhow, a comment like that just makes it seem like you're the type of person who'd just brush the whole family with the same paint."

"I don't think that's the expression," I said. "And wait," I added, a bit indignantly, "Isn't that exactly what you were saying with the Pyes?"

At this he flushed, but looked no less angry. "That's different, Diana. I mean, at least…at least I wasn't talking to a Pye when I said that. I'd never insult the family name of a person who…who I'd want to court, or anything."

"Wait, what?" I said.

We both stayed silent for a long stretch of time. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Look," I finally said, "Obviously we have a lot to talk about. But first…I really wish you'd accept my apology. I don't think we can really talk unless you do, and I really am sorry."

Another long stretch of time.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. Then he turned around and walked away on me for the second time in two days.

I stood rooted to the spot, half-protected from the rain in a shed, unable to believe what had just transpired. How could someone just…not accept a sincere apology? What was I supposed to do now? There was nothing else that I could do, really…other than try to apologize every time I saw him, though I imagined that such a strategy would be generally annoying. All I could do was wait. My 'take action' philosophy had failed to come through for me this time.

x

I waited in the shed for a long while, but the rain refused to stop. I trudged home, letting the bottom of my dress drag against the mud – it would take far too much effort to carry such a volume of soaked material in my hands.

My mother indeed yelled at me for a good half hour before telling me to help her with the cooking. Meanwhile, from his favourite armchair, my father shouted politics at me as he read the newspaper. In the sitting room, Minnie May plinked out a few notes on the piano.

--

A/N: 1. And thus ends _AoGG_! I told you it would end melodramatically, I have fulfilled my promise. On to _AoA_!

2. It rains ALL the time in the Maritimes (far Eastern Canada, where Prince Edward Island is located), I shouldn't even mention when it does, it should be like the 'default' weather setting.

3. Next chapter is the start of _AoA_ and features Moody, Fred, and the return of the Sewing Circle.

4. The Right Honourable Sir Wilfrid Laurier was Prime Minister of Canada from 1896 to 1911. He lived in interesting times. He was the first francophone Prime Minister and as such had a huge support base in Quebec. The big issue in the 1896 election was the Manitoba Schools Question, which is what Mr. Barry is referring to in this chapter.


	19. Teamwork

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: A couple of plot-forwarding chapters.

**tvor:** Yes, I too was surprised when I was reading through AoGG and realized that it finished so soon after Matthew's death! I was like "Aw shoot, time for AoA already??"

**manda2784: **Yes, I feel badly for her! I know the feeling of putting my foot in my mouth all too well…

--

"Diana Barry, whatever has happened to you _this_ time?" asked my mother, as I stood in the doorway. She had every reason to be baffled – I was entirely covered in mud. I had been doing so well, too, up until when I had tried to help Anne back up.

"It wasn't something that could be avoided, mum," I said. Where Anne went, shenanigans would follow, so I supposed it was mostly my fault for being around Anne so often.

"Well, you certainly can't come in like that, you'll track mud all over the house," my mother said. "Go to the shed and clean yourself off, I'll be by with one of your dresses."

"Thank you." I walked off our porch and was about to head to the shed when I noticed Moody in the distance.

"Diana, you're covered in mud!" said Moody, once he got closer.

"Yes, I noticed," I replied, not wanting to further elaborate on a cow chase. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, thank you."

"It's almost September," I noted. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

He nodded. "I've decided to go back to Queen's for a year to get the First Class teacher's licence. I don't intend to be a principal but if I'm going to be a minister I guess I ought to learn all I can about teaching. Though I wonder if I oughtn't to be working and saving money instead, for Redmond." Moody casually put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"How's Jane?" I asked promptly. He often used that calculated casual stance when about to discuss discomfiting subjects. I could picture him as a minister, hair neatly combed and clothes freshly pressed, putting his hands in his pockets and slouching a little, before launching into a sermon about eternal hellfire.

"I don't know, I haven't been able to have any conversation with her," he replied, slouching further. His jaw clenched and he shifted his gaze away. "Do you think she's avoiding me?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "I haven't heard anything like that, but I'll ask her if you want."

"No!" he quickly said. "Don't ask her directly, just…keep an ear to the ground for me, will you?"

The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of Jane and Moody together. Jane was such a sensible, wholly likeable girl. She would make a perfect minister's wife and she would be a good balance for Moody, who could sometimes have his head in the clouds.

"Of course," I agreed.

"Oh, thank you, Diana!" he said, grasping my hands gratefully. I winced as I saw him quickly let go as soon as he realized he was getting mud all over the cuffs of his shirt.

"Agh!" Moody frantically rubbed at his shirt. Of course, that only made the stain worse, and I only managed to stop him once that stain was well and truly permanent.

"Sorry," I squeaked.

Moody shook his head. "Don't be, I should've been more careful," he dismissed, though he grimaced as he looked at his shirtsleeves again. "Just don't forget!"

"Keeping my ear to the ground!" I repeated, and with a smile, nod, and a wave, he left.

x

The Debating Club was held every other Wednesday evening at the Avonlea Hall. All young people of Avonlea from age 16 to 25 were invited as long as they had finished school and paid their bi-annual dues in a timely manner. Fortunately, the dues weren't at all heavy. Unfortunately, this meant that Avonlea Hall was quite the unorganized, loud place on Wednesday evenings. This was only exacerbated by the lacklustre leadership skills of Henry Sloane, who quite frankly, nobody liked, probably because of his Sloane-ish—

…I mean, probably because of his less than endearing characteristics that did not necessarily reflect the characteristics of an entire family.

That evening the creation and organization of the Avonlea Village Improvement Society, AVIS, was being discussed. Henry Sloane, who would soon be heading to Dalhousie to study law, insisted on having AVIS be a committee of the Debating Club. Anne and Gilbert looked at each other in alarm. The two had recently realized that every committee created during the two-year reign of Henry Sloane saw a quick, unspectacular demise.

Fortunately for AVIS, Anne and Gilbert were both quite decent orators and quickly came to the defence of their precious Society.

There was no parliamentary order in the Debating Club, and if Gilbert waited to be acknowledged, Henry would conveniently ignore him.

So instead, Gilbert simply leapt out of his chair and began his argument.

"Mr. Sloane, that sounds like an excellent idea. Now, I have a few questions about the details. Who would head the society?"

"Me, of course," said Henry, with complete confidence. "I believe that I am the best person for the job. I've experience for organizing and a passion to fix Avonlea!"

"Mm," grunted Gilbert. "There may be some people who believe that a man who is moving away within a month, and a man who has a track record of absenteeism at committee meetings may not be the best choice. But, let's move on," he added hurriedly, before Henry was able to interject. "My next question: What would be the benefit of having AVIS as a committee of the Debating Club? The Debating Club has hardly any resources to spare, and Avonlea is a small enough town for AVIS to become known on its own merit."

"Well, first, Mr. Blythe, I'd like to expand on my answer to your first question-"

"Mr. Sloane," said Gilbert, looking pointedly at the clock hanging on the far wall of the room. "We've little time left in the meeting, and I think we'd all like to see the fate of AVIS decided upon right now as opposed to waiting for yet another fortnight."

Gilbert was giving off quite the air of competence, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed a possible challenge. Charlie looked about ready to leap to his feat; to one purpose, one couldn't be sure. He would either defend Henry, turning this into an everyone-versus-Charlie debacle, or he would agree with Gilbert and propose that he himself become the AVIS President, undermining Gilbert's whole argument.

Anne was sitting beside me. I kicked her in the shin and raised my eyebrows, slightly jutting my chin towards where Charlie was sitting.

"Ouch," hissed Anne, but she followed my line of sight, and noticed that Charlie had already planted his feet on the ground and was about to stand up.

She leapt up to pre-empt him.

"I cede the rest of my time to Miss Shirley," said Gilbert, randomly deciding to formalize the procedure. Anne quickly caught on.

"Thank you, Mr. Blythe. Debate Clubbers. If you will, for just a moment, imagine how Avonlea looks now, unruly gardens, broken fences, felled trees left blocking the road, and all. Now, imagine that in this very hall sit two dozen or so people, filled with passion and spirit, ready to help make Avonlea great. They work in partnership with the fine residents of the town, instead of dictating to them. Over time, Avonlea gains in fame throughout the Island, and AVIS is eventually revered as the organization that caused it.

"'What's your secret?', some White Sands villager will ask. AVIS will reply: we elected our own leadership. We only had people who were dedicated to helping and supporting our beautiful home of Avonlea. We made sure that meetings were run in an orderly and efficient manner. We got things done."

Anne finally paused to take a breath. I supposed that Anne's ability to talk for minutes at a time without stopping was finally getting some use.

"You, too, can be a part of this," she said, looking around the room, making eye contact with as many individuals as she could. "I'd like to put forward a motion to declare the AVIS an autonomous society with representative leadership."

Henry, caught unprepared, echoed the motion and put it to a vote. The yeas heavily outnumbered the nays, and so AVIS was born. The Society would meet on Thursday evenings at Avonlea Hall, and it was open to all Avonlea residents who showed enough interest, though it seemed obvious to me that it would primarily be seen as a young people's project.

x

After the meeting had let out, Anne, Gilbert and I met at our usual place under a birch tree not far from the Hall. It was late, but we always had much to discuss after Debating Club meetings.

"You two definitely planned that," I said.

"No, not at all," laughed Gilbert. "If Anne hadn't swooped in right when she did we could've said good-bye to AVIS."

"You give me too much credit, Gil," said Anne. "Diana here forcibly alerted me to my cue. Oh, I noticed Oliver wasn't here this evening, Diana. You wouldn't have anything to do with it?"

I glared at her, since she was well aware that Oliver's absence was most likely entirely my fault.

"What's this, Diana?" asked Gilbert, interest piqued.

I huffed and glared some more but Anne only shrugged. There was nothing for it.

"Yes, about that…I accidentally said something that quite offended Oliver…I apologized, of course, but…"

"But he didn't forgive you," finished Gilbert, with a knowing look. "I couldn't imagine what it would have been like if Anne hadn't forgiven me all those years ago."

"I have to admit," said Anne, "If Diana hadn't constantly been hounding me about forgiving you, I probably wouldn't have!"

"It looks like Moody is walking Jane home," noted Gilbert suddenly. Anne and I looked toward the road and noticed the pair walking away from the Hall, chatting amiably all the while.

"I think they make a lovely pair," I said.

Gilbert agreed, but Anne shook her head. "I don't know, Diana," she said. "I think Jane needs someone who will sweep her off her feet and give her some excitement in life…Moody and Jane might work well as a team on something but I couldn't possibly see them married."

Well, _I_ could.

"It's like Gilbert and I," added Anne suddenly. "We worked together wonderfully in that meeting at the Club, but I couldn't picture us married."

Gilbert's face fell for a moment, but he quickly rallied.

"Isn't that what marriage is all about, though?" said Gilbert. "If a husband and wife can't work as a team, there's not much they'll be able to accomplish."

An awkward silence followed that statement. By this time, the sun had well and truly set, and as it was a cloudy night the only light we had was coming from Avonlea Hall. Through the window we could see that Charlie and Henry were still inside. They looked like they were arguing, but they were too far away to be heard by us.

"I don't think they'd make too great a pair either," said Julia from behind me. She had just suddenly appeared and I jumped a bit, surprised.

"Julia! I didn't know you were still here," I said. "And eavesdropping."

"If I know Moody, he'll need someone to remind him to tie his shoes," said Julia, choosing to ignore my comment. "Jane, being so sensible, would quickly tire of that, I think, because she'd wonder why anyone would need to be reminded of such a thing."

This made sense, and I was starting to wonder whether I should give up on my efforts to help Moody.

"You mustn't stop helping Moody, though, Diana," said Anne, reading either my expression or my mind. "If they don't belong together they won't end up together, but if you stop helping Moody, he'll feel abandoned."

Anne sounded sure, but I wasn't so confident that fate would come through for people. Anne and Gilbert so obviously belonged together, but I wouldn't be surprised if Anne's stubbornness was more powerful than fate itself. Then I realized that if Providence enacted fate, thinking such a thing was almost blasphemous. Oops.

"Julia, have you talked to Oliver lately?" I asked, to distract myself from my latest wrongdoing.

"Yes," she replied, "Though he's refused to talk to me about you. Whenever I even begin to say your name, he'll cut me off."

That didn't sound familiar at all. I glared at Anne for putting me through something similar, but she only shrugged with a 'That was _years_ ago' expression.

"Don't hold grudges, Diana," she admonished me. "It's bad for the complexion."

"You could try that on Oliver," laughed Gilbert. "Don't hold grudges, Oliver," he continued, raising his voice an octave. "It's bad for the complexion."

"That might actually work," said Julia. "He _is_ terribly vain."

x

Recalling what Anne had said about forgiving Gilbert only because of my constant efforts, I decided to talk to Thomas again. I found him the next day once again working in the field. Like last time, we sat under the trees.

"Is this about Oliver again, Diana?" asked Thomas. "You know, we're friends too."

That was quite a cryptic statement. I gave him a look.

"I just mean, you could talk to me about something other than Oliver, you know."

"Sorry," I said, feeling guilty. But he shook his head.

"No, I understand. If I were interested in a girl who refused to talk to me, I'd be obsessed with the topic too."

I glared at him, but he just laughed.

"I'm glad I amuse you, Thomas," I said, with a smile. If I was going to unload everything on him, he certainly had the right, I thought, to be amused by it all. "And yes, this is about Oliver again. I have a favour to ask. Would you talk to him for me? I already apologized to him, you know, just like you told me too, but he won't forgive me. Maybe with a little encouragement from you, though, he will."

Thomas lay down on the ground, put his arms behind his head, and sighed. "The thing is, Diana, I _have_ been trying. I don't like to see two of my favourite people be mad at each other."

"I'm not mad at him!" I said defensively.

"Yes, I bet you are! You're mad at him because he won't forgive you."

"Nooo…" I said, but I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Right," said Thomas, not believing me. "I'll talk to him, but just make sure you're not mad at him, okay? Because when he forgives you – yes, when, not if, Diana," he clarified, when I gave him a sceptical look, "I don't want you mad at him for holding a grudge."

"Well, my best friend is the queen of grudge-holding," I mused. "Or was, anyway. So I can understand."

"Anne is a lovely girl," Thomas declared loyally. One of Thomas' favourite pastimes was sitting on the Green Gables porch and listening to Anne spin stories of dryads and fairies, something that I had patience with but wasn't very interested in, especially after that terrible Haunted Woods incident.

"I'm calling on Green Gables after I'm finished here," continued Thomas. "Will you join me? Anne told me yesterday before Club that she's got a new story in the works. I think Gilbert's going to join us too."

"Er, I think I have too much to do at home today," I said hastily. Gilbert was another one who loved to listen to Anne's fairytales, of course.

"That's too bad," said Thomas, frowning. "But oh! Julia's said that there'll be another Sewing Circle meeting this Sunday. Be sure to come."

"Of course," I said.

x

After that, I headed home. I really did have quite a lot to do, and Minnie May had been clamouring because I had lately been slack at giving her piano lessons. I felt a little guilty about that, so I upped my pace.

But I abruptly stopped when I noticed my father talking to Fred. They were just at the side of the house. I hurried around the house and crouched behind the back wall. Hopefully, I'd be able to peer over at them and not be seen. Fred was dressed in his second-best outfit, had combed his usually neat hair to even greater heights of perfection, and stood ramrod straight. My father was dressed in his usual work clothes, but had a serious expression on his face.

"I'm afraid I'll need a higher offer than that, sir," said Fred. My father looked incensed for a moment, but quickly calmed down.

"Okay, how about we also give you dinner before you go home," my father replied. Fred seemed to contemplate this, but shook his head.

"That, _and_ two dollars more to my weekly salary."

"Two? One."

"Deal."

They firmly shook hands.

"You start Monday morning."

"Yes, sir."

Fred walked away and father walked inside the house. I put my back against the wall and sunk down to the ground.

What had just happened? Did my father just hire Fred?

--

A/N: Man, Fred runs a hard bargain. A dollar was a lot, back in the 1890s. Weekly salaries ranged relatively vastly but I don't imagine that hired help would've made a lot of money.


	20. A Condition

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Double-update this week, because I missed last week. Read **chapter 19 before reading this one!** Review replies in chapter 19 as well.

--

Dinner time at Orchard Slope. I had sat outside the house for a little while after seeing Fred and my father talking, so I got in just as mother was setting the table.

"Diana, come help me dear. Wherever were you this whole day?"

Other than talking to Thomas, I had been out the whole time riding my bicycle and not doing much else. I wasn't about to tell her that, though.

"I saw Fred leaving just as I was getting in, though he was too far away for me to say hello," I said, hoping to distract her. Well, that was mostly true.

"Oh, indeed? Yes, your father wanted to talk to him. I think he's got a small bit of news for us."

Minnie was running around the kitchen, trying to help, but she mostly just ended up jostling either tables or my mother or I.

"Minnie, walk, don't run," I said. "A small bit of news, mother?"

"Listen to your sister, Minnie," my mother said, and Minnie finally calmed down. "Yes, he'll tell us at dinner, I'm sure."

The table was set and the food ready to be served. Might as well put Minnie May's high energy to use.

"Minnie, go out and fetch father," I instructed. My mother backed my instruction up with a look that sent Minnie scurrying out. She soon returned with father in tow, and we all sat down at the table. After a quick prayer we dug in.

"I've hired that friend of yours, Diana," said father, "Fred Wright. He'll be helping on the farm this year. I need an extra hand to help bring in the harvest, especially now that I've bought the Green Gables farm."

"Have you," I said, more as a comment than a question. "Why not a hired boy?"

"A hired boy wouldn't do the job right," he dismissed. "Matthew Cuthbert did a good job with the planting at Green Gables this year and I believe that if we do the harvest well we'll have enough to buy even more property next year."

My father was such a calm man. I never knew he was so ambitious.

"I suppose that makes sense," I said, slowly. "Though doesn't Fred have to help out his own father?"

Father swallowed the piece of chicken that he had been chewing before replying. "Fred is saving up to buy his own farmland. I'm paying him more than Donald and Melanie could afford to give him. Besides, Robert and Wesley are more than enough manpower to help Donald manage the Wright field."

The Wright family had quite the dramatic past. Fred's father was Donald Wright, who had married a woman named Melanie Duchamp at a young age. Donald's parents, Richard and Emily Wright, did not approve of Donald's marriage. They thought he was too young, they did not like the idea of him marrying a Frenchwoman, and most of all, they did not like the idea of him marrying a Catholic.

So Donald Wright was disowned, and he was left with nothing, while his older brother, Richard Jr., got everything. But Donald and Melanie were hard workers. Donald worked as a hired hand during the day, and distributed political leaflets in the evening. Melanie worked as a fulltime nanny for a wealthy couple living just outside of Charlottetown. Eventually, Melanie got pregnant with their first child, Robert, and she had to quit working. Fortunately, by then, they had saved enough money to buy a small property and start their own farm.

Since that time, Donald and Melanie Wright had only managed to buy a few more hectares. Their property was still small, and everyone knew that they were worried about not being able to give their three sons, Robert, Fred, and Wesley, proper starts in life.

"Good thinking, dear," said my mother. "I'm sure the Wrights appreciate it."

"Yes. They've invited us to dinner next Sunday. They haven't been able to have much company lately – tight on money, and all that – but they're feeling a lot freer now."

"What time is the dinner at?" I asked.

"Oh, don't worry, Diana, it's after that little club meeting that you and Fred have with your other friends."

x

Well it was now time for that 'little club meeting'. The Gossip Club…I mean, the Sewing Circle had been on vacation for a few weeks because, as Julia said, everyone was 'occupied'. What she really meant was that, for once, she was being tactful and was trying to avoid having Oliver and I in the same room.

But Julia's tactful spirit could only last so long, and eventually she declared a meeting. So there I was once again in the Bell sitting room, with Julia, Gertie, Alice, Lizzie, Fred, Oliver, and George.

"I heard that Valentina Violetfellow is going to be giving a concert at the White Sands hotel!" said Gertie, sounding excited. Valentina Violetfellow? That couldn't possibly be here actual name. "Are any of you going?"

"I heard that her name used to be Patricia Smith, but she changed it because she thought it was too commonplace," said Julia, confirming my suspicion.

"I went to one of her concerts once, back in Toronto," said George. "She's incredibly dull and pompous."

Lizzie looked upset. "I've been just dying to see her! I heard she was wonderful."

"…But I hear she's gotten better!" amended George hastily. "I've been wanting to hear her again! I'll definitely go, if Lizzie'll do the honour of accompanying me."

"Oh!" exclaimed Lizzie, delicately putting a hand to her chest. "I would like that."

"The concert's on Thursday night. I hear it ends late," said Gertie. George winced. Charlottetown would be holding their sheep auction on Friday; no doubt George would have to do an overnight trip directly after bringing Lizzie home from the White Sands concert.

"That's…great," he said.

"Wonderful," gushed Lizzie. "I can't wait. Alice, will you come shopping with me on Tuesday? I've got to get a new dress for the occasion."

"Certainly," said Alice, though she looked doubtful.

"Ohh, if you ladies are going shopping, do let me tag along!" said Julia. "My cousin is getting married in a fortnight and I've nothing to wear."

"You two might as well join us," said Lizzie, looking at Gertie and I. Gertie agreed to go, but I had no doubt that such a trip with these girls would take all day. I didn't think I was up to dealing with such four…personalities altogether for so long, especially while shopping. It wasn't that I didn't _like_ all of them, but I could already see how the trip would go. Julia and Gertie would decide to get the same fabric and cut, and end up arguing about who thought of it first. Lizzie, who was from the better-off branch of the Wrights, would try to entice me to buy more than I could afford. Meanwhile, Alice would stand silently by, contributing no problems but also helping with nothing.

Fortunately, I had a ready out.

"Oh, I couldn't. School starts on Tuesday, you know, and I want to be right there when Anne finishes her first day of teaching."

Julia, Gertie, and Lizzie all looked rather put out, but Fred came to my rescue.

"That's certainly nice of you, Diana. I'm glad that you support your friends."

Julia rolled her eyes, but she agreed. "Yes, it is nice of you. Next time, though, you'll _have_ to come with us, Diana, on a shopping expedition."

Then and there I decided to make a list of excuses to avoid 'shopping expeditions' with the girls, but I knew that some day, I would have to go. Oh well.

The girls continued talking of shopping. Julia and Gertie were already getting into an argument, having both decided that they wanted silk dresses. I ignored them and instead observed the boys. George was deep in thought, probably trying to figure out how he'd make it back on time for the last train out to Charlottetown. Fred was actually listening to the girls talking, and offering the occasional comment, though these fell on deaf ears. Oliver was…looking straight at me. He quickly looked away when he noticed that I caught him staring, but I was left feeling uncomfortable.

x

The Sewing Circle finished. Once again, most of us had only managed to sew a couple of stitches, while Fred had finished his whole garment. This time, it was a pair of children's gloves.

"I'm giving this to your sister," Fred told me. They weren't thick enough for the winter but would certainly keep her hands warm during the late fall.

"I'm sure she'll love them," I said.

"We've got to head to dinner, Diana," said Fred, taking his watch out of his vest pocket. "I think mother said that she'd have the table set by 5, and it's already 4:30."

"Yes, let's head out," I agreed. We stood up, said our goodbyes to the rest of the Circle, and left the Bell house. We had only walked a few metres when I heard Oliver calling.

"Wait! Diana! I've got to speak to you," he said, rushing towards us.

"Um…" I looked at Fred, who shrugged.

I didn't want to offend the Wrights, of course, and if I were late while Fred was on time, I probably would offend them.

There was nothing for it.

"Okay, let's talk," I told Oliver. I threw an apologetic look at Fred as Oliver and I walked a bit away from the side of the Bells' house.

"Look, Diana," he said. "Thomas has been talking to me, and I've now realized that this is silly. If you'll forgive me for holding a grudge, I'll forgive you for your slip."

After talking with Thomas I had realized that I _was_ mad at him for not forgiving me. I had decided that doing so was ridiculous, though; if he had insulted my family and name, I would have had a hard time forgiving him. I was no longer mad at him.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," I said. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are," said Oliver. "Let's just forget this ever happened. I have to-"

"No," I interrupted. Oliver's eyes widened in surprise, but I had to say it. "Let's not forget. I made a mistake, I learned something, we managed to forgive each other. I think it's important to remember that."

Oliver was silent for a moment, but then he nodded.

"Yes, you're right. And I promise that if you apologize for your mistakes, I won't ever hold it against you, so long as you do the same for me."

"Of course. I promise."

We stood there in silence, for a moment, appreciating our new promise. I felt ridiculously happy at that moment, and was doing my best to savour the feeling. Our friendship, I felt, had gotten to a level that was only matched by my friendship with Gilbert and Julia, and was just below that of my friendship with Anne.

I thought that Oliver was also savouring the feeling, but apparently he was instead internally debating something.

"Alright. Great. Um, look, Diana, there's something else."

"What is it?" I asked. I was getting a very bad feeling.

He pushed his floppy hair out of his eyes and shifted his weight from left foot to right. Quit stalling!

"I'm moving," he blurted out.

"What?!" I replied.

"I'm moving, in about a month, I think."

"To where?" I asked, hesitant.

"…To Alberta."

"Why?" I asked. I think I managed to keep my voice calm, though I certainly didn't feel it.

"Money is tight right now," he said, sounding embarrassed. "Our crops haven't been doing too well for the past…well, few years, actually. Father can't support all of us, though he still needs one of us boys to help him."

Oliver was the middle child. He had a younger brother, Samuel, and an older sister, Laura.

"…" I couldn't really think of anything to say to that.

"Samuel should probably finish school, and I'm older so I could handle living by myself better. Though I wouldn't really be living by myself - I'm taking Laura with me and we're heading west."

"Well, I get why you're moving," I said slowly. "But…why all the way to Alberta?"

"It'll be easier to get a start, living there," he said. "You know the government is giving huge subsidies to people who move there."

"What'll it take to get you to stay here?" I asked desperately. There had to be a way…

Oliver shook his head. "Who knows when the government will repeal the act…this might be my only chance to get a real start for myself, you know? Anyway, I need to make enough to support myself and Laura until she gets married…"

"But Oliver…you can't move away," I said. _Especially not when I'm falling in love with you_ I thought randomly, though I quickly clamped my hands over my mouth to make sure that the thought didn't get out.

"I'm sorry. I'm glad we're friends again, though," he said.

"Yes, me too," I replied, unable to say anything else.

x

Dinner with the Wrights went by uneventfully. Fred had kindly waited for me to finish talking with Oliver, so that we would both be late. My parents and the Wrights both assumed that our Circle meeting had run late, and we said nothing to the contrary.

When we got back to Orchard Slope, I let mother and Minnie May go in first, and then put a hand on my father's shoulder, stopping him from entering the house.

"What is it, Diana?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I've got to ask a favour of you," I said slowly. I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing, but I had to do something. I felt silly asking for such a huge favour, though it was easier to do so since it was another cloudy night and I couldn't see my father's face clearly.

"Alright…" he said, urging me to continue.

"Would you…hire another friend of mine?"

"Hire another friend of yours?" he said, sounding surprised. "Who? And whatever for?"

"Oliver Sloane," I said. "He might have to move away, though I don't think he really wants to, but he doesn't have enough money to stay."

"Diana, I've just hired Fred. I couldn't possibly hire another man, I haven't any need."

"Didn't you say you were going to buy another property after this year's harvest? Take out a loan from the bank, since you're sure that you'll be able to pay it off soon, and buy the land now…if you get Oliver to harvest it you'll make even more money than you would otherwise."

"That might work," said my father, with a contemplative air. "Though I'm hesitant to take out a loan."

"Please," I said, unable to think of any other solution.

"Well…I won't be able to pay him as much as I'm paying Fred now, but if we can come to agreeable terms, I'll consider it."

Now all I needed to do was finagle a job for Laura. Maybe Mrs. Cooper needed a housekeeper, she was away on trips quite often these days. "Oh, thank-"

"But I have another condition, daughter dear," my father interrupted.

"What condition is that?"

"I'm not a trusting man, Diana," he said. "I've known Donald and Melanie for years, now, and I know that they and their children are all hard-working, dependable people. There's only one man that I could possibly ever trust to take care of you, Diana, and that's Fred."

I didn't at all like where this was going.

"You've got to promise me that if he ever proposes to you, you'll accept."

Ahh…

--

A/N: 1. Oh no, cliffhanger??

2. It's hard to think of so many random names for the Wrights and the Sloanes, though I had a fun time with Valentina Violetfellow.

3. When Oliver says the government is giving huge subsidies to people who move west, he is referring to the Dominion Lands Act.


	21. Motivation

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Sorry about the day's delay, I've got an exam on Tuesday. Um, not that I've really been studying for that. Crap. Anyway, next chapter will definitely be on time, since it's mostly finished, though admittedly it's not very plot-y.

**manda2784:** Thank you! I'm quite fond of it.

**Lady Eleanor Boleyn: **We find out what happens to George and Lizzie, and how Anne's first week at school was, in the next chapter!

**tvor:** We shall see how things work out! One night I couldn't fall asleep until I figured out what would happen, and now I've got it plotted it out for the next dozen or so chapters! If only the characters will do what I tell them to…

**The Labyrinths Scribe: **Thank you! I highly recommend books two and three. I have indeed not seen the third part…I'll be sure to take a look!

--

I knew what I had to do. I had already made my decision. Now if only I could say it aloud.

But my mind tried everything to stall me. I could smell the recently rained-on grass. I could hear a few birds chirping far off in the distance. Idly, I noticed that a few nails on our porch were loose.

I refocused on my father and remember my motto of taking decisive action.

"Y-"

"Think about it," my father interrupted, frowning at me. "Don't go making rash decisions, girl, that's not the Barry way! Think. Tell me what you decide tomorrow." With that, father quickly walked into the house, leaving me standing on the porch and feeling a little annoyed. If he hadn't wanted me to make my decision on the spot, he shouldn't have been so pressing…

Did he want me to accept, or not? Maybe he was trying to trick me into saying yes by getting me to think he wanted me to say no. Or maybe he was trying to make sure I was sure of what I was doing?

I looked up as I heard the door creaking open. Father popped his head out.

"Diana, I thought you were right behind me. Come in! You'll catch a cold."

x

Monday arrived and I woke up, rubbed my eyes, and stumbled out of my bed. I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. It was ridiculously hot, and I hadn't managed to fall asleep until I had decided what to do about the Oliver Situation.

I was now glad that father had told me to take some time to think it over. When I had talked to Oliver on Sunday, I hadn't really had the time to get any details into his finances or lack thereof. I still wasn't entirely sure that it was at all polite to ask for such details, but I needed to know before being able to make the decision that was best for Oliver.

I peered out the window. It wasn't raining yet, but it looked like it might, so I put on an old dress and my galoshes. After a quick word with my mother ("Alright, Diana" – then a sigh – "but do try to come back in the afternoon and help me make tea!"), I was off to the Sloanes'. Of course the clouds broke out once I was halfway there, so I looked ridiculous with the sun reflecting beams of light off my boots.

The Sloanes were a well-established family, spread far and wide throughout the Island, with an excessive amount settling in or near Avonlea. Oliver's father had inherited the property, but decided that the house it came with wasn't quite big enough. So he tore it down and, with the help of his wife, built an even bigger house with architecture inappropriate to dinky old Avonlea. Not only that, but every year, he whitewashed the whole house himself, so that it was always gleaming. He had even bought crawling ivy a few years back and tried to get them to grow up the front of the house, but they promptly died.

It was definitely a standout in the Avonlea landscape.

All told, the house certainly looked a little ridiculous, but also managed to be slightly intimidating. The door I was currently standing in front of was tall enough so that even if my father were carrying Minnie May on his shoulders, he could walk into the house without having to bend down at all. Dark brown hardwood, gleaming brass knocker, imposingly wide doorframe…

Truth be told, I had never been in the house, and had only infrequent contact with Oliver's parents. I hadn't really thought this whole 'first thing in the morning' thing through, I realized with some dismay. Ratty dresses and ugly boots weren't quite impressive.

Was this what it was like to be almost in love? I wasn't sure I could keep up basic social grace if I kept being plagued by this level of thoughtlessness. I wondered if –

Suddenly, the door swung open and a man brusquely walked out, his chest hitting me squarely in the face. I staggered back and was about to stumble down the steps, but the man caught my arm in time and pulled me forward.

"Woah! Easy there. I'm real sorry, miss…oh! You're Michael Barry's girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "No need to be sorry, I'm the one who was-"

"Wait," he said, "That means you're Diana Barry!"

"Um, yes, Mr. Sloane…"

"I've been hearing things about you and my boy," he said, casting a somewhat disdainful glance at me. He was a large man, and had a deep voice, but my instinctual reaction to anybody named 'Sloane' who was trying to be condescending was to roll my eyes.

Fortunately, I remembered in time that this was not the time or place for that, and managed to refrain from doing so.

"Your father, you know, he keeps telling me to stop whitewashing my house. 'That house of yours blinds people', says he. Can't a man do as he pleases? But what can you expect from the Barrys? Your mother fits right in – all dictating to other people what to do."

"But sir, I-"

"What Oliver sees in you, I'll never know. But I've got trust in my boy. Besides, he's leaving, did you know?" he added, a bit smugly.

I did my best 'well _of course_ I knew' face, but it didn't phase Mr. Sloane.

"Anyhow, I'm on my way. Nice to talk to you, you should stop by more often," he finished. He raised his cap in a surprising gesture of courtesy, and then indeed went on his way, merrily whistling.

Well, I bet he felt sorry now for having used all that money to build such a house, I thought maliciously.

I sighed and turned back to face the door, thinking that perhaps I had better just leave and hope that Oliver would come by my place instead, but Laura and Samuel were standing in the doorway, staring at me. They looked very much like Oliver, and very unlike their father, who had blue eyes and blond hair. Mrs. Sloane was the one with the darker colouring.

"Um, hello," I said, awkwardly

"Diana? Oliver's in his room, I'll fetch him if you like," said Laura. She went back into the house. Samuel sent me a beaming smile. Well, they seemed nice.

We stood staring at each other for a few minutes. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Why are you so fat?" asked Samuel suddenly. Well, now he seemed less nice.

"That's not polite," said Oliver, coming up from behind him and cuffing him on the ear.

"Ow! Stop hurting me Oliver!"

"I only hit you if you deserve it," said Oliver seriously. "Diana, how are you?"

"I'm alright," I said, slowly. "Let's go talk?"

"Okay." He turned to his brother and glared. "If you come spy, I'll tell mother that you're the one who stole Minnie May's milk bottle in school last spring."

Samuel looked properly subdued. I was just horrified.

"She cried about it for days!" I told Oliver, as we walked up the lane and away from the house. "That's terrible."

Oliver shrugged. "I'm not sure how Sam turned out to be such a…not good kid."

"Well, I don't think you've exactly escaped being mischievous altogether, Oliver."

He grinned. "But a bit of harmless fun is quite different from a total lack of respect, Diana! My brand of mischief is that if there's one person who's not having any fun, then nobody is! Unless I'm having fun. Then it doesn't matter who else is."

I laughed and lightly swatted him on the arm. But then I remembered what I had come to talk to him about, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing. We stopped by the side of the road, far away from any trees were malevolent younger brothers could hide. This also meant that there was no log or convenient rock formation to sit on, so we simply sat down on the grass. I was wearing and old dress, anyway. Oliver smiled slightly at the sight of my galoshes, but he quickly turned serious again.

"Listen…what would it take to get you to stay in Avonlea?" I asked, hesitant. I hoped I wasn't sounding too desperate.

Oliver shook his head. "Enough money to get me started with my life. I've got to start building something up, Diana."

"What if…what if you got enough money to just live here, you know, and Laura got a small job that she could work at until she got married?"

Across the road a small stream flowed down a slight slope and over a few rocks, carrying twigs and a few leaves that were already starting to fall. The flow of water made a rhythmic, soothing sound, and that was the only thing I was hearing right now. I waited patiently for Oliver to answer.

"I can't," he finally said. "If I stay home, I'll still be a bit of a burden, you know. Besides, what could Laura possibly work as? A housekeeper, I guess…the ladies of Avonlea are mostly nice, but…"

Ah, I knew it! I had felt that there was a deeper reason than lack of money. Even with my roundabout offer, there was still something that was prompting him to go to Alberta.

"But we've got to get away from here. It's hard to be a Sloane, Diana. You might not think it, but it really is. I admit – other than Laura, I don't know any other Sloane that's very likeable, but…and, honestly, I've got to get away from my father, too."

He paused to try to throw a pebble into the stream, but it missed by a few metres.

"I know it's hard to be a woman," he said slowly, "But it's hard to be a man, too, Diana. I've got…expectations to live up to. Or, in my case, to avoid living down to. If I can go and get myself established in Alberta, and if I can take care of Laura for a little while, then I'll know that I can…well, be a man? That sounds odd, but that's the way it is. Besides, this is probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Maybe."

He fiddled with the chain of his pocket watch, then unbuttoned his vest.

I was a little dismayed at his statements, and it was time to figure out why.

I wondered if money really was an issue, because it sounded like that was less important to him than the moving away from Avonlea thing, but I felt like I was missing a piece of the puzzle. I decided to ignore that, then, and maybe I'd be able to figure it out later.

Next, I thought of Mr. Sloane. What Oliver was saying fit perfectly with the impression I had gotten of him when we had 'conversed' on the Sloane porch.

In any case, agreeing to marry Fred if he asked me was basically a promise to marry Fred.

And that would just be pointless.

"Okay," I said. Oliver looked up, surprised at my sudden declaration. "I understand, Oliver. I can only wish you the best. Take care of yourself and of Laura and…tell me when you know when you're leaving, so that I can come see you two off."

Oliver nodded. "Of course."

x

I rushed home so as to impress mother by being early. I entered the sitting room, looking for my mother, and there she was, talking to Mrs. Lynde.

"Diana Barry!" said Mrs. Lynde. "Child, I heard that you were at the Sloane's this morning."

"Yes, I was," I said. With Mrs. Lynde, the best thing to do was stick to the strictly factual. She would catch you if you tried to evade answering, and offering any more than the bare minimum was practically an invitation to be talked about during Ladies' Aids.

"What were you doing there?"

"Talking to Oliver."

"Why would you need to talk to Oliver?"

"I wanted to know when he was leaving," I said, hoping that his departure was common knowledge by now. I was sure that Mr. Sloane had gone around this morning to brag about his son leaving home to become a self-made man.

"And when is he leaving?" asked Mrs. Lynde. She was getting better at fishing. She had probably been talking to Anne to often. Anne was the expert of evading Mrs. Lynde's prying, but as Anne got better at it, Mrs. Lynde got better at asking information-revealing questions.

"He doesn't know yet…the train schedules aren't set."

Mrs. Lynde nodded wisely. "Yes, I don't suppose the train companies are well organized enough to know when their trains come and go! Martha," she said, leaning towards my mother, who was calmly knitting, "Let me tell you about the train companies…"

x

Soon after, it was tea time. I hadn't had a chance to talk to my father yet, so I hoped that that I'd be able to do so after we were done eating.

Minnie May was eating at an alarmingly fast pace. And suddenly, I noticed that she looked taller, and it wasn't just because she had finally stopped slouching.

"Minnie May! You've grown!" I exclaimed, patting her on the head.

"A little bit! I'm going to be as tall as you soon, Diana."

"I doubt that," I grumbled.

My mother nodded. "Yes, it'll be a while still, but I'm confident that you'll grow even taller than Diana, Minnie."

Minnie clapped her hands together and bounced up and down on her seat.

"You take more after me, dearie," continued my mother, "While Diana takes more after…oh…your aunt Agatha."

"Aunt Agatha!" Aunt Agatha was my mother's sister. She was considerably shorter than mother, and could only be described as 'stout'. Not only that, but she had an unfortunate personality and _hated puppies_, as if any had ever done anything to her.

At least she was well off, I comforted myself.

Mother noticed my glare and intercepted. "Oh, don't look so, Diana, your aunt is a lovely woman."

I waited for an explanation as to how, exactly, she was a lovely woman, but evidently this was a statement to take on faith.

"Tomorrow is Anne's first day of teaching," I said, after an extended silence.

"Right! Minnie May, you be nice to Anne, you hear? And you call her Miss Shirley!" pre-scolded my mother.

"Yes, mother," said Minnie May. "I like Anne – Miss Shirley – real well, in any case."

After tea was finished, I managed to finish with the dishes quickly enough to intercept my father as he was walking back to the field.

"Diana! I guess it's time to tell me what you've decided," he said.

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, it's time to tell you my decision, and I've decided no, I don't accept the terms of this deal."

Father shrugged. "Alright, if that's how it is. Anyway, I'm sure you'll come to see what a great fellow Fred is in time, Diana."

Especially since we'd be having dinner together almost every day, I thought glumly. I didn't mind talking with Fred, but being forced to interact with a potential suitor was neither romantic nor desirable.

--

A/N: So Oliver is leaving! We will see the goodbye after one or two more chapters. Note that the pace of _AoA_ was far slower than the pace of _AoGG_ (two years, versus five!), and the 'AoA' portion of _WDH_ will also do so.


	22. Fabrics

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Uploaded **chapter 21 **a bit late! Read it first if you haven't.

This chapter is very dialogue heavy! In my defence, they are riding in a carriage for much of the time, and Anne is part of the group. This chapter is also quite light! I figure Diana deserves a break.

**tvor**: I'll miss writing Oliver! He was fun.

--

Saturday found me on a shopping expedition with Anne. I enjoyed these outings very much; I loved buying new clothes and trying the latest fashions that I read in the 'Yankee' catalogues.

Unfortunately, George and Julia had decided to accompany us. George was a nice man, to be sure, but he was a man, after all. No doubt he would get bored of our endless textile comparisons within the first twelve minutes and start clamouring to go home.

Julia, meanwhile, claimed that she had been unable to find the right material or pattern for the dress she needed for her cousin's wedding. However, I was firm in my belief that she had come solely to tease me and get information.

It surprised me that she had waited until we were close to Carmody to finally bring up Oliver.

"So, why didn't you get Ollie to stay, Diana?" she asked, craning her head back. She was sitting at the front with George, who was driving the carriage. Anne and I sat behind.

"It wasn't my decision, you know," I said, annoyed. "He had to go, due to various circumstances."

"Various circumstances. How vague, Diana!"

"Yes, well, why didn't _you_ get him to stay?" I asked.  
She looked genuinely confused. "Well, he clearly likes you, certainly more than he likes me. I really did think you'd be able to get him to stay."

"Well, I wasn't," I said. I knew I was being harsh with Julia, but despite my acceptance of Oliver's reasoning, I still wasn't happy about him leaving.

Anne noticed my distressed expression and quickly diverted the attention.

"Now that Oliver's moving, you'll have to find a new target, Julia," prompted Anne.

"Yes," said Julia, taking on a serious expression. "This huntress needs some new prey. Someone tall, handsome, fun, interesting, a little clueless…ooh, maybe Thomas?"

Thomas? When he wasn't being goaded on by Oliver, Thomas was still quite fun and interesting, but far calmer and more responsible.

Julia would eat him alive.

"Thomas! You'd eat him alive," laughed Anne, echoing my thoughts.

"His last name is Strong!" exclaimed Julia. "I'm sure he'll have the strength to deal with me, right?"

Anne and I exchanged sceptical looks.

"Oh, alright, not Thomas, then," said Julia. "How about…Sam Boulter? Has he given up on you yet, Diana?"

I laughed. "Sam? He doesn't meet a single one of your requirements, Julia. Maybe the clueless one. He's backed off for now, but I'm sure once Oliver leaves, it's just a matter of time before I see him standing at Orchard Slope's gate at the oddest hours."

"Romance is a complicated affair," said Julia solemnly. "How about you, Miss Shirley? How are things going with young Mr. Blythe?"

"There's nothing going with 'young Mr. Blythe', Julia," claimed Anne. Sadly for Anne, her face always betrayed her at times like this, and she flushed red. In the five years I had known her, she hadn't gotten any better at controlling her blushing.

"Oh, I see," nodded Julia, sounding supremely disbelieving. "I'm surprised he didn't come home this weekend."

"He just got a part time job at a newspaper office near White Sands, and he's doing his training today. They say they'll mostly have him work weekdays after school's done for the day, though," said Anne. "But I feel terrible about it, since he needs that extra money mostly to pay his rent for the boarding house he stays at, and he wouldn't have had to board if he'd just taken the Avonlea school instead of giving it to me. Although, I suppose at least he's getting experience. I'm sure the office he works at right now only treats him as an errand boy but the moment they let him right an article or two, they'll be asking him to write all the articles. He says he wants to go into medicine but I do believe he'd do just as well if he took his B.A. and went to work with the newspapers instead. But," she finished, "who knows what the bends in his road will hold for him?"

Yes, Anne, _who knows_? As long as Anne eventually gave up on her denial routine, all three other occupants of the carriage knew at least one event on the 'road' of Gilbert's life.

"Speaking of school," said George, "How did your first week go, Anne?"

"I hope Minnie May didn't give you any trouble," I commented idly.

"Oh, no, Minnie May was a perfect angel, it was almost a little worrisome how well she behaved. What did you threaten her with, Diana? Anyhow, there's this one student, Paul Irving, who I believe is a genius. Not only that, but I think I have found myself another kindred spirit. He's like…like a slice of the sun – not the whole sun, no, because if you look at the sun directly, you'll notice it hurts to look at it. The sun is far too dazzling, really. Paul is far more sublime –those that notice him are bestowed the opportunity to really, truly look at what the sun is like, because he's only a slice of it, see. And to look at the sun, and really see it – oh, imagine it!"

George and Julia looked completely baffled at talk of kindred spirits and slices of the sun.

"He also gave me wild orchids," added Anne, perhaps aware that she needed a clearer way of informing George and Julia of how great Paul was.

"Is he handsome?" asked Julia.

"He's ten!"

Julia shrugged. "_Will_ he be handsome?"

"He's too young for you!"

Julia only shrugged again.

"Paul must be new this year," said George. "The class I had could be a handful sometimes but they were mostly alright, except for certain ladies who would just not pay attention."

"I hear there's a few new pupils attending school, Anne," I said, ignoring George's unnecessary commentary and pointed glance.

"Yes, there's Annetta Bell - who I think will do alright, Julia, she mostly pays attention and does her lessons - as well as Arty Sloane, Barbara Shaw, three Cottons, Prillie Rogerson, Anthony Pye, and 'St. Clair' Don_nell_, but please, if you see him, just call him Jacob, poor boy. Anyhow, you're right George, the class is mostly alright, so long as Anthony Pye doesn't entice them to do something ridiculous!"

"What can you expect from a Pye, though?" asked Julia rhetorically, as if her best friend wasn't Gertie Pye.

"I don't believe it's related to his Pye-ness one bit," responded Anne, sounding defiant. "He's an independent-minded little fellow, and I believe he would be causing trouble for him even if his name was Anthony Barry."

"I don't know, Anne," said George. "Pyes can be a trial to begin with, and I think a few of them specifically don't like you."

"No, I agree with Anne," I said. "I don't know Anthony but from what Anne says it sounds like he's acting on his own will. Maybe…maybe it's because you won't whip him, Anne?"

"Not you too, Diana!" exclaimed Anne, sounding indignant.

"Well, I don't think it should be done as a matter of routine," I defended, "It loses its impact, then. But, sometimes there are special cases, you know…exceptions."

"That's just what Gilbert said," sighed Anne. "But I won't give up. Let's talk of something else."

"What happened with your outing with Lizzie, George?" asked Julia, all too willing to decide the next conversation topic.

George looked over and smiled.

"Well, we went to see Miss Violetfellow, but she was still as atrocious as the last time I saw her. When she finished her third song Lizzie grabbed me and stormed out the door.

'I can't believe how terrible that woman was!' she said, and then she said 'I feel conned. Wait, I _was_ conned! You know what, George? I'm going to stay here until the end of the show and then demand your money back from the managers. You go to Brighton and catch that train to Charlottetown.' When I asked her how she'd get back, she told me she'd be staying with some cousins in White Sands."

We were duly impressed.

"Did she manage to get the money back?" I asked.

"I'm not sure…" Apparently an idea popped into his head, and George suddenly held a finger up. "But, if you don't mind, can we pick her up and take her back to Avonlea with us after we're done shopping? She said her cousin would drive her back in the evening, but it'd be far more convenient if we'd do it."

Julia, Anne and I all shrugged and nodded, giving our seal of approval to the plan.

x

We first went to a textile store, where they sold quite the variety of cloths, both practical and exotic.

"What are you looking for, Anne?" I asked, as we looked around the place. Small square samples were neatly arranged on the countertops that were spaced evenly throughout the room. The names of the material were written on the wood underneath it in a surprisingly elegant hand, considering that this store was run by a Mr. Worthing, as the store sign proclaimed. Maybe Mrs. Worthing had written the names out.

"Something for winter coats. Both my church and normal coats are completely worn through."

"So soon?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"Well, I'm not sure when I'll have another Saturday free to come to town, and I certainly won't be able to on weekdays."

Or, as anyone who was not Anne would say, 'I hope this will be the only Saturday that Gilbert's not in Avonlea, and when he's in town I want to spend all my free time with him, because when he goes to Redmond, he'll only be in Avonlea for Christmas and summers.'

"I see," I said. "What about you, George?…Now that I think about it, you still haven't told us what you're shopping for."

"Oh," he said, sounding oddly bashful, "I'm looking for a gift, you know…for Lizzie. I mean, I feel bad that the concert turned out to be such a flop. Also, I just like giving her gifts."

See, Anne, there was nothing wrong with being clear in intention.

"Let's go to the milliners when we're done here, then," said Julia. "I'm sure they have some ready-made hats, and I think Lizzie's winter one is in need of an update, right, Diana?"

"That blue one? Yes, definitely."

"In any case, I need to get a hat for myself, too," she said. "…It's a Bell tradition, you know, to get a new hat every time a cousin marries," she added, with a completely straight face.

Poor George looked like he believed her.

"No, it isn't!" I stated. "Though your acting skills are admirable, Julia."

"Thank you, Diana! I quite think so."

"Your modesty is the most charming part about you, Julia," commented Anne.

"Isn't it, though? Oh, look here, Anne, some terrycloth, might be good to make your coat with."

"I'm not looking to make bedlinen, Julia…"

"How about seersucker?"

"I'm not looking to get sick, either! Seersucker for a winter coat, that would be something."

So it went, until Anne finally settled on a certain brown serge fabric for a church coat, and black gingham for her every day coat. I bought bright blue poplin, while Julia went with a deep red taffeta.

George was indeed rather bored the whole time we were in the store. Once we paid Mr. Worthing and left the store, George regained his spark. Once we got to the milliner, however, George's knowledge regarding fabrics showed itself. He picked up hat after hat, pulling at their edges, and making odd hand gestures all the while.

"George…what are you doing?" asked Julia, with considerable hesitation and curiosity.

"I'm trying to approximate the size of Lizzie's head," said George.

"Well, you could use my head as a model," suggested Julia. "I don't imagine that her head could be much bigger than mine."

"I doubt anybody's head could be much bigger than yours, Julia," I said.

"I take offence to that!" she scolded, thought she was smiling. "What kind of hat are you looking for anyhow George?"

George was about to answer, but here all three of us ladies piled on the questions (and answers):

"Casual or formal?"

"Or semi-formal? A casual hat would hardly be romantic, I think, and a formal hat perhaps too stuffy."

"But a casual hat _could_ be romantic, you know…you've just got to expand your concept of 'romance'. All the other suitors would no doubt get her a formal or semi-formal hat-"

"-if they got her a hat at all! What a strange idea, George…"

"-so if George got her a casual hat, it would be a whimsical little memory for the both of them."

"That's true, but what kind of casual hat would he get her? A boating hat can only get so expensive."

"I suppose you're correct. Semi-formal is the way to go, then?"

"Agreed. A tea hat! Perhaps in woollen felt? With feathers."

"Feathers, certainly, but not too many, or she'll simply look ridiculous."

"Oh, no need to be so concerned Anne, there's a difference between putting lots of real foliage on a hat and putting a few feathers.

"That was so long ago!"

"Alright, not too many feathers. And in fur felt, instead of woollen, for added value."

"And a broad brim! I saw many broad brims in the Bay's catalogue when I was going over it."

"A semi-formal, moderately feathered, broad-brimmed tea hat it is, then. Purple would go well with her colouring, I think."

Hat obtained, and with Julia deciding she didn't need a new hat after all, we left the milliners to go pick up Lizzie.

George sat silently in the carriage, still looking a little shocked at how many decisions had gone into picking a simple hat, and at how quickly those decisions had been made. He also looked a little doubtful, but that was because George had not yet fully grasped the power of three experienced shoppers who could pick out the perfect piece for another person in under five minutes, and bargain the price down by a full dollar, to boot. If he kept gadding about with Lizzie, and therefore with us, I suspected that he himself would soon be able to contribute to said power.

My male friends and acquaintances were not the best dressers (except for Gilbert and Oliver, who were _adequate_ dressers), and my father would only let me buy things for him occasionally. Of course men had more important things to worry themselves about: the state of their farm, the state of the country, the state of their family. Although, Mrs. Lynde managed to concern herself with all of these in addition to the state of her neighbours, their farms, and their families…

We arrived at Lizzie's cousin's place and waited in the carriage while George walked to the door. We were too far away to hear him, but we could see him well enough. He took a few moments, maybe to collect himself, before knocking at the door. It was opened fairly quickly, and a short, unimposing woman stood at the doorway. A bit of conversation between George and the woman, and the woman disappeared back into the house. George took a couple of steps to the side and fiddled with the plain brown box that contained the hat we had bought.

A minute passed, and Lizzie walked out of the house, looking quite surprised at seeing George and at seeing us in the carriage. We waved at her and she returned the wave, and started walking towards us, but George put out a hand to stop her. She turned back towards him, looking curious as George handed her the box. Her look of surprise from before was nothing compared to how surprised she now looked.

Then, they smiled at each other for a moment before talking again, with Lizzie looking down bashfully and rocking back and forth on her heels, and George focusing intently on her and not looking away even once.

They talked for a full ten minutes. I was getting a little impatient, but I imagined that if I were in Lizzie or George's positions, I wouldn't notice time passing by either.

"Well isn't that romantic," said Julia. "I suppose we picked the right hat!"

"I imagine so!" I said. "I do wonder what they're feeling now, though."

If I were someone looking on at Oliver and myself having a conversation, would we look something like that? I suspected so, but I still felt a bit like a fraud, and I wasn't sure why.

When talking of romance, Anne usually got a starry look in her eyes, and would describe castles, a dark and melancholic hero, flowery promises of being together 'til death do them part, which wouldn't be all that long because of tragically early deaths.

But this time, she got a different look on her face, a serious look, with her usually misty gray-green eyes having an oddly sharp, clear aspect.

"Maybe it's like loving all the seasons," said Anne, still unable to speak without excessive use of metaphors, despite her current demeanour. "You always know what's coming, year after year, and…It rains too much in spring, summer is far too temperamental, fall is filled with bright colours that disguise death, and the winter is cold and staid…"

She kept her metaphor short, but I wished she had elaborated further. It _seemed_ like she had reached some kind of vital insight, but I couldn't understand it. I looked to Julia, to see if she had understood it. She was still watching George and Lizzie, and looked thoughtful.

Anne shook her head and frowned.

"No, I'm being silly. I wouldn't know! I suppose you'll have to ask George."

And that was that. George and Lizzie finally got into the carriage, and we headed back to Avonlea.

I did ask George, after church on Sunday; but he was far too embarrassed to do something like describe his emotions.

--

A/N: 1. I am not currently loving summer, Anne. My room is like an oven.

2. I had to learn way more about fabric and textiles than I ever thought I'd need to. At least now I know what LMM is talking about when she says organdy and serge and wincey, etc.

3. Next chapter: Letter(s) from Moody, and other things.

4. I rather like writing George/Lizzie…a wholly straightforward romance.


	23. Motivation, Reprise

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Well here is an update! Just a few months late…I can't promise regular updates so I suggest signing up for Story Alert. Sorry if I can't quite get Diana's "voice" right, I'm out of practice. I had to re-read all of _What Didn't Happen_ to remember what happened so here is a refresher, along with a list of the ridiculously large cast.

--

**Summary:** Or, the story so far. Diana stops Anne from breaking her slate over Gilbert's head. Diana and Anne get into various hijinks. Anne and Gilbert become friends after he rescues her from the dory. Anne and Gilbert go to Queen's. Diana greatly expands her social circle. The Sewing Circle is formed, as is AVIS. Diana is now a teenager and is therefore faced with romantic prospects. She is "almost" in love with Oliver Sloane, but Oliver is moving to Alberta. Fred has just been hired as Mr. Barry's hired hand. Subplots: George Barclay and Lizzie Wright are moving along well in their relationship. Julia Bell may have her sights set on Thomas Strong. Moody is interested in Jane.

**Character List**

_Diana Barry_ - Best friends with Anne. Good friends with Gilbert and Julia. Moody's confidant. Entrenched in Avonlea gossip. Likes Oliver. Samuel Boulter and Fred Wright like her. Siblings: Minnie May.

_Oliver Sloane _– Best friends with Thomas. Good friends with Julia, George, and Lizzie. Likes Diana. Siblings: Laura and Sam. Cousins: Charlie and Nancy.

_Fred Wright _– Part of the Sewing Circle. Likes Diana and intends to marry her. Employed by Mr. Barry. Siblings: Robert and Wesley. Cousins: Lizzie Wright.

_Anne Shirley_ - Best friends with Diana. Good friends with Thomas and Jane. Secretly loves Gilbert, the feeling is unsurprisingly mutual. Charlie and Billy Andrews like her. Teaching at Avonlea.

_Gilbert Blythe_– Good friends with Anne, Diana, Moody, and Charlie. Loves Anne. Josie and Ruby like him. Teaching at White Sands.

_Charlie Sloane _– A googly-eyed person. Likes Anne. Emma White likes him. Cousins: Oliver, Laura, Sam, Henry. Siblings: Nancy.

_Thomas Strong_ – Best friends with Oliver. Good friends with Julia, George, and Anne. Siblings: Alice.

_Julia Bell_ – Best friends with Gertie, though how well they get along is inconsistent. Good friends with Diana, Oliver, and Lizzie. Started the Sewing Circle.

_Gertie Pye _– Best friends with Julia, though how well they get along is inconsistent. Likes to hang out with Diana. Cousin: Josie.

_George Barclay _– Used to be the Avonlea schoolteacher before he decided to settle in Avonlea by starting a farm. Under Mr. Wright's tutelage. Loves Lizzie, the feeling is mutual.

_Lizzie Wright _– Good friends with Oliver, Thomas, and Julia. Loves George. Cousin: Fred.

_Moody Spurgeon McPherson_– At Queen's, in his second year. Plans to be a minister, plans to go to Redmond. Likes Jane.

_Jane Andrews _– Teaching at Newbridge. Good friends with Diana, Anne, and Ruby. Her feelings for Moody are unclear. Siblings: Billy.

_Josie Pye _– An unpleasant person. Cousins: Gertie, Anthony.

I feel like I should make a chart. Of course there are also even more minor characters: _Ruby Gillis_, who is vapid; _Mamie [last name?]_, who is unimportant; _Emma White_, who is a bitch; _Henry Sloane_, who is pompous; _Priscilla and Stella_, who are Anne's Queen's friends; _Mrs. Cooper_, who is a scary though vaguely friendly lady; _Mrs. Lynde_, who is Mrs. Lynde.

--

The Monday after the shopping trip I woke up to the sound of someone knocking at my bedroom door. A quick look outside the window confirmed that it was still early in the morning, just barely approaching dawn.

"Who is it?" I called out, though my voice felt a bit strained. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, trying my best to fully reach that 'awake' state.

"It's me," my father said, voice muffled by the wooden door. "Come out here, Diana, there's something you need to see."

"I'll be out in a moment." I quickly stripped off my nightgown and on went whatever dress I first pulled out of my closet. I opened the door with one hand and with the other tried to get my hair into a semi-presentable state. "What is it?"

"Come downstairs."

We went downstairs and my father covertly pointed to a window with a little sliver of light showing through where the curtain didn't fully cover. I peeked through the opening, but didn't see anything.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I asked. The front yard looked as it always did, the road leading up to the front gate looked as it always did, the front gate looked as it always did…except for the fact that one Sam Boulter was casually leaning against the fence, fiddling with his thumbs and occasionally looking up at the house.

"What?!"

"That's just what I'm wondering, Diana," said father, sounding quite suspicious. "Not even your mother is awake yet. Why is he here so early in the morning? Were you expecting him? He's a friend of yours, right?"

"More of an acquaintance than a friend…but I certainly wasn't expecting him," I said. "Maybe Mr. Boulter wants something from you, and it's urgent enough to send Sam to talk to you as soon as you woke up, but not urgent enough to actually go wake you up?"

"Perhaps so," my father said. "But, I've a feeling that this has to do with you somehow."

"Father, young men have reasons to visit Orchard Slope other than wanting to visit me or such nonsense," I explained patiently.

"We'll just see," he replied easily. He took a few quick steps towards the door, stopped to don a cap, and then ambled out and towards Sam. As I watched from the window I could see Sam and my father animatedly talking, and then Sam pointed a few times towards the house. Then he made some odd gesticulations that involved puffing up his chest, pointing at himself proudly with his thumb, and then heartily patting my father on the shoulder. My father looked less than amused and vigorously shook his head. Sam, however, was not to be denied – as was his habit, he persisted, and the conversation continued for at least ten minutes before my father's shoulders finally sagged. Father slowly walked back towards the house and finally he came back in.

"I was right," he said simply. "He wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" I asked skeptically.

"About…you and him," he answered, with a weary voice. "I'm not surprised you have suitors, Diana, and I'm not saying you shouldn't have any, but," and here he gave a sidelong glance at the window, "maybe you should pick some better ones."

Too stunned to really reply, I gave my father a disbelieving look before looking back out the window. Well, perhaps it would be best to disillusion Sam of any romantic notions he might have. I purposefully strode out the door and up the path and met Sam at the gate.

"Sam! How…early to see you," I said, unable to bring myself to say the usual pleasantries. No more passivity, I reminded myself. "My father says that you think we have some issues about us that we need to discuss."

"Right," he said, lightly kicking the fence and watching his foot with fascination. "Look, Diana, the thing is…I think you're the one for me," he said earnestly, looking up just in time to catch my utterly shocked impression.

"And I can see that you think so too," he continued. "We belong together, Diana. I really like you, and I know I haven't been too good at telling you or showing you, but – give me a chance, Diana, and you'll see."

Somehow, I doubted this.

"I've decided to move out West," he declared, "To Alberta. I know at least one other Avonlea man is doing it," he said, unable to keep the slyness out of his voice. "But I, for one, would like to have a homegrown girl to take with me instead of taking my chances with those Western girls. An Avonlea woman's best for me, you see. So," he continued, getting down on one knee and fishing a suspiciously rusty ring from his pocket, "Won't you marry me, Miss Diana Barry? Please, become Mrs. Diana Boulter."

The nerve! I could hardly believe this. There wasn't anything about this situation that made any sense – _why_ bring up Oliver? _Why_ was Sam also moving out West? And _when_ had I ever given Sam the impression that I held any interest in him?

I decided to ask him these questions, since trying to figure out answers to these for myself was clearly a hopeless task.

"I know you've never 'shown an interest' in me, as you say, Diana," said Sam, "But you can't blame a fellow for taking a chance, right? Anyhow, I thought you'd like the idea of going out west – you seem like the type. And besides, you're a nice, reliable woman and I'm a nice, reliable man – don't we just kind of go together?

"And I'm moving out west because there's where the money is. It really hasn't been a good year for farmers here on the island at all, specially not in Avonlea" he said, "except for the Barry crops and the Blythe crop," he added, sounding a little put-off. "I'm the youngest son in my family and I've finished school already so it's up to me to help out a bit."

"Well, I suppose that makes _sense_," I replied, "Um, I mean the part about moving, not the part about nice people going together. What about my first question?" I demanded, feeling suddenly angry again.

"About Oliver? Well, I know he likes you," said Sam, that sly tone coming back into his voice. "A lot. And I know you like him too – well, at least it sure seems like it. But I bet after he told you he'd move out west, he made no mention of _you_. He'll just move out and not give you a second thought. Meanwhile, _I_ know that you're a competent woman – and I know it'd be hard for you to leave all your friends here, but I know you've got a sense of adventure underneath all that properness, I just know it! – I can tell cause you're best friends with Anne Shirley, see – and I'm asking you to come out west with me so that we can build our lives – together!"

For a long time, we both stood in silence, staring at each other in a silent battle of wills. That's what if felt like on my end, in any case.

I bet my father was getting nervous.

"I can't marry you!" I suddenly blurted out.

"Don't you get it?" said Sam, finally getting up from his knee and properly standing. "Oliver's leaving you. Maybe you're in love with him, but it doesn't work if he lives hundreds of kilometers away from you, forever!"

I felt tears come to my eyes. I wanted to slap that serious, convincing look off of Sam's face, but I managed to restrain myself.

"Get out of my sight!" I managed to gasp out.

"I get it. I won't ever come by again if you don't want to me. But keep in mind – I'm leaving in November – _a month after_ he_ is_. The offer is open."

With that, he turned around and walked back onto the road, and started heading away. Altogether, he seemed only a little upset. At least he wasn't utterly devastated or anything of the sort – I was a bit more forthright with my rejection than I had meant to be, and I wouldn't be able to stand it if I had seriously hurt his feelings. As he ambled away I noticed that his hands were in his overall's pockets, his back was moderately slouched, and his cap was only a little off centre, perched firmly on his head. It seemed that all farmer boys walked this way at least some of the time, except for Gilbert, and Moody who wanted to seem proper at all times, and Charlie who wanted to pretend at respectability. Sam disappeared into the morning fog. Oliver walked in that farmer boy way sometimes –

Suddenly, I burst into tears and fell to the ground on my knees, feeling my throat tighten and my eyesight blur. I desperately wiped away my tears, but I couldn't seem to stop crying –

I could hear both my father and mother rushing out the house and towards me, my mother repeatedly asking me if I was alright, my father demanding to know what Sam had said to me, but my throat hurt too much to really speak.

x

After I managed to stop crying, I had to convince my father to tend to the sheep instead of going to confront Sam. That done, my mother made some tea and we sat in the kitchen, delicately sipping at the dainty cups.

Then, to my surprise, as soon as my father went outside she cleared the cups, reached into a cupboard, and pulled out a bottle of what looked like cordial.

"Cordial?" I asked. "Tea was fine, mother…"

She shook her head. "Currant wine," she said, and when she placed it on the table I could clearly see that it was indeed currant wine and not cordial. I looked at her in astonishment. She smiled. "A lady sometimes needs a chance to repose from the daily task of dealing with ridiculous menfolk," she said, quite seriously. "But sometimes there is no time to get away from them, so a stiff drink has to get us through the day instead."

Though my father sometimes had some ale, I was under the impression that my mother was a teetotaler.

"I was," she said, reading my look. "But then I spoke to Mrs. Allan and she told me that Jesus and his disciples drank a little wine sometimes too. We must follow his example in all things," she said idly, as she poured some wine into two cups. "Drink, Diana, and tell me everything."

I took a sip of the currant wine and just as I'd remembered from that time at Anne, the sweet liquid burning down my throat tasted delicious.

After a few gulps, I told her everything. She knew, of course, about the situation with Fred, but she was interested in hearing about Oliver, and looked as baffled as I was about Sam's sudden proposal.

"Your father woke you up far too early in the morning to deal with this," she said, once I had finished. She sounded a little angry. "You haven't had enough sleep. Go to your room, rest a bit, and then go talk to Oliver."

"Talk to Oliver? But I understand his reasons. I'm just…not happy that he's leaving."

"Then why didn't he ask for you to go along with him, then?" she asked.

"I don't think it's so easy to ask someone to leave their family, friends, and the only place they've ever known for a harsh, empty place hundred of kilometers away," I replied. "I suppose that he realized that even if he asked, I wouldn't leave. And then I'd feel badly about not wanting to leave."

"Wouldn't you?" she suddenly asked, after a moment of silence.

"Wouldn't I what? Leave? Of course not."

"I wouldn't be too certain of that," she said, giving me an askance look. "Go, sleep a little. I'll wake you at noon. Think about what I asked you."

"Yes, mother," I dutifully replied.

x

I lay in my bed, back in my nightgown, and stared at the ceiling. What had my mother meant by asking me if I was certain that I wouldn't just suddenly leave Avonlea? That would be far too drastic. It would mean leaving all my friends – like Anne and Gilbert, and Julia – going far away from them, indefinitely. It was hard enough to not have Anne close by for just a year, even if she frequently visited.

I still couldn't bear the thought of having Anne or even Gilbert go away to Redmond for four years. And after earning a B.A., who would return to little Avonlea? Then again, it was unlikely that Anne would go to Redmond after all, with Marilla in such poor health still. I felt happy about this, but a bit guilty about feeling happy, since I knew that Anne really had wanted to go to Redmond quite a lot – still did, perhaps, even if she knew it was unlikely.

But Gilbert would certainly find a way to go – and when he did, I'd rarely see him anymore. I imagine that we'd stay good friends, writing letters back and forth. But it was obvious that I couldn't have any guarantee that my friends would stay in Avonlea. So why would I stay here?

Was it just the thing that was done? Well, it certainly was, but moving away was also something that was done, especially a lot of the girls, when they got married. Maybe I'd stay for my family? Most of my cousins were spread around the Island, though there were a few that had gone to some far-off places, and even some scary places, like the States. Why had they done so? Anyhow, if I got married, I supposed my husband would be my new family – though I'd only have to abandon the old one if I moved away. Was moving away really "abandoning"?

My mind roiled.

x

I suppose I finally got to sleep. I once again woke up to the sound of someone knocking at the door.

"Diana, it's a little past noon. Wake up."

"Yes, mother," I replied, and I heard her footsteps walk away. Mid-way through taking off my nightgown, I heard the footsteps return.  
"I'm off to Rachel's. When you're back from Oliver's, do Minnie May's piano lesson as soon as she comes back from school."

"Yes, mother," I replied again, and she walked away again. I heard the front door open, then close. I was alone in the house.

I didn't _have_ to go talk to Oliver, of course. My mother had just_ strongly suggested_ that I do so.

I sighed.

x

Fortunately, this time I didn't have to confront any unpleasant fathers or tactless little brothers. Laura was the one who answered the door at the Sloane home, and she informed me that Oliver was at the post.

"He just left," she said, looking mildly amused. "If you run fast enough, you might be able to catch up – though he's on a bicycle."

There was no way I could catch up.

"I could lend you mine," offered Laura. I eagerly nodded and she gracefully lent me her bicycle. I promised to return it to her in good condition and furiously pedaled after Oliver. Laura was a little taller than I was so I constantly felt as if I would fall off the bicycle. But, it was worth the awkward feeling, as I soon spotted Oliver a little ways ahead. I pedaled even faster but my feet couldn't quite reach the ground, so my unfortunate means to stop was crashing right into Oliver's bicycle. I went flying off the bicycle and hit the ground, but I managed to miraculously roll back into a standing position, unharmed. Oliver less gracefully half-tumbled, half-fell off the seat and ended up slumped on the grass, a little ruffled but none the worse for wear.

"Oliver," I said.

"Diana," he said, "Nice to see you, although I personally would've chosen a less violent method to make my presence known…"

"Sorry," I said. I offered him my hand and he gratefully accepted and pulled himself up. "But I've got to speak with you. It's important."

"Right here?" he said, scratching the back of his neck. I nodded. He nodded back. "Alright. What is it?"

"Why didn't you invite me to go with you?" I blurted out.

"Go with me where? To the…post office?" he ventured.

"To Alberta!" I replied.

Oliver looked a little stunned at this, and of course I imagine that this was certainly an unexpected question.

"Well…because…do you…_want_ to go with me?"

"Yes," I bit out. "…Probably."

He sighed. "That's why I didn't ask you. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to make such a momentous decision in just a month."

"You could've at least given me the option," I replied, feeling a little cross. I glared at him, though the effect was lessened by how he was so much taller than me. "You know," I added, "Sam Boulter's decided to go out west too."

"Really," said Oliver, sounding casual, again scratching the back of his neck. He looked around and noticed that his cap had flown off when we had crashed, so he leaned down to retrieve it. "Why's that?"

"Same reasons as you. And, he offered to bring me with him – he proposed."

"What!" Oliver said, dropping the cap that he had just picked up. "What?" he repeated himself.

"Yes," I said, "It caught me by surprise, too. But, you know what he said? He said that he wanted me and him to build our lives together, out west – to build from the ground up, as it were."

Here I once again glared at him, putting my hands on my hips and leaning towards him, for emphasis. But he responded by getting an annoyed look on his face and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Listen here, Diana, if Sam made you an offer like that, then he doesn't deserve you," he sniffed. "Because it's hardly an offer – he doesn't have anything to give you!"

"Is that why you didn't invite me to go with you?" I asked.

"Yes!" he replied, reaching out to grip my upper arms. I felt frozen in place. He certainly had a strong grip…

"Listen, Diana," he said, "You're too young. I wouldn't be a proper man if I asked to marry someone as young as you without any way to really support you. I have no money, no land, and my family name is as good as dirt."

"That doesn't matter. I'd work, if I had to. I can, you know. And they'll _give_ you a piece of land, out west, and nobody has money there anyhow, and I'm a Barry so to be honest your family name hardly matters," I said, hoping I hadn't offended him once again, but aiming to be as realistic as possible.

I met his eyes, hoping to find some kind of understanding in them, but all I was met with was a slight frown.

"Working from sunrise to sunset, every day of the week – except Sunday, of course – far away from all your friends and family, with nothing to fall back on – it's not what you want."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not really giving me the choice, are you?"

We stood there for a few minutes, at a standstill. His normally jovial blue eyes looked cold, and I'm sure my black ones didn't look much friendlier. Neither of us even dared to breathe, and the silence stretched on.

"You're right," he finally said. "I'm not giving you the choice."

With that, he let go of my arms, picked up his cap and set his bicycle upright. He straddled the seat and set his feet on the pedals, but abruptly he set them back down on the ground.

"By the way," he added, "I'd really rather not talk to you for the month before I leave, Diana."

"Fine," I spat out. He nodded, and then pedaled away, towards the post office.

That hadn't gone well _at all_. With a sigh I picked up Laura's bicycle and headed back to the Sloane house.

--

A/N: 1. You might be asking – how did Diana's mother change so much? Have you ever lived with someone – a parent, sibling, or roommate – and one day suddenly realized that they were a much different person then they were a few years or even a few months ago? Diana's mother changed while Diana wasn't paying much attention to her. This is what happens when you have a strict first-person POV!

2. I know this chapter is long – but at least it moved the plot along? And I know I promised some letters from Moody, but that wouldn't really fit in! Don't worry, we'll hear about his progress with Jane – or lack thereof – soon.

--

**manda2784**: We'll see ;)

**tvor**: I'm glad it's all coming back to you. AoA is somewhat less episodic/outlandish than AoGG so it's harder to remember. Organdy is a light, somewhat gauzy fabric. Seersucker is striped, somewhat dappled material, lots of summer suits are made out of it. I doubt that helps though :P George and Lizzie are a refreshing counterpoint to the Anne-and-Gilbert song and dance and all of Diana's relationship troubles, or so I hope :)

**november21**: "Cute" is the right way to describe it. Hmm, you're right about the summary…any suggestions on how I can make it more accurate/reflective of the content? I'm glad you like the story.

**Pinkfurball**: I hope you enjoy the story!

**Iluvromance**: Your wish is granted. Anne and Gilbert's story will indeed be told, though from Diana's POV it'll be a somewhat limited perspective! As for Diana and Fred getting married, hmm…

**Mrs. Rilla Ford**: Okay! Here it is! Please don't hunt me down! I have to admit it was your review that got me thinking "ooh, maybe I should finish this…" – too often have I read a great story for like 50 chapters only to notice that the last update was in '06 -_- So, thank you for the push!


	24. Idle Conversation

Disclaimer: This is strictly a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. "Anne of Green Gables" is a trademark of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: I wrote the first half of this so long ago but then I got busy again -_- Anyway sorry about yet another gap between updates!

Last time, on What Didn't Happen: Sam Boulter proposes to Diana and gets rejected. Diana confronts Oliver and it goes very badly.

--

Anne and I had decided to meet at the bridge just a little ways from Birch Path because, as Anne put it, in a way that was both worshipful and vaguely blasphemous all at once, "as the final leaves fall off the branches we must bid farewell to the autumn of this year, one that has never been seen before nor shall ever be seen again. Each combination of colours and leaves is unique to this moment. And of course that bridge in front of Mr. Madison's farm has the best view. You know, Diana, I don't suppose there's a fall season in heaven – it is when the leaves die, after all, and there isn't supposed to be death in the afterlife. Or maybe the leaves will be captured at that moment in between their life and death, a type of eternal transience. Though that wouldn't leave very much room for the other seasons, and if there _had_ to be just one, I'd rather it be spring."

So there we stood, on the bridge, bidding farewell to the autumn of this year.

"How are the twins doing? Frankly, I'm surprised Marilla really did adopt them after all…I'd have thought that she'd have remembered the trouble she had with you!"

"Yes," nodded Anne, leaning on the railing, "It's hard to forget all those…hmm…'little incidents' that I got into. But, I think she kind of misses it. Marilla has had a very hard life but not a very interesting one. Children always seem to add excitement anywhere they are found, somehow. Perhaps that's why I like teaching so very much. All the different characters are all so interesting. Even Barbara Shaw's constant klutziness is a little endearing, though I _do_ hope that she'll grow out of it."

"There's hope for her yet, I suppose. After all, it took at least a few years for you to stop getting into 'little incidents'," I said, before remembering the Jersey cow fiasco that happened just a few months ago. "Well, you've _mostly_ grown out of them."

Anne was clearly remembering the same thing since she laughed and nodded. "That's right. I suppose that everyone keeps inside of them a little bit of how they were as a child. I wonder how Mrs. Lynde was like as a child? Somehow I can't imagine her at five years old. I just keep picturing her face as it is now on a little child's body, and that just can't be right. She'd have been ever-so-proper, certainly, and would have known everyone and everything they were involved in, even then."

"I guess so," I said. "Although Mrs. Cooper said that when Mrs. Lynde was about eleven, she was a menace who terrorized the other schoolchildren!"

"Well, Mrs. Lynde is a bit terrifying even now, to be sure…having someone around who seems to know everything is more than a little unsettling. Just last week I told Emma White that I thought Lizzie's new hat fit her so well – you know, the purple one George bought her - and just yesterday Mrs. Shaw said that her daughter – that's Barbara – was really glad to have a teacher 'who is so awfully understanding about my klutziness' so out of thanks she had bought me a purple hat, since she heard I liked the color so much. I asked her where she heard that and she said that Mrs. Lynde told her that I liked Lizzie's hat. How that would ever come up in conversation, I hardly know…well of course I thanked her for buying me the hat but when could I ever wear it? Purple clashes with my hair almost as much as pink does."

"I haven't the slightest idea. Perhaps you should wear it next time you visit her…put it on right before you enter her house, and then take it off as soon as you go out again. Although, if nobody sees you wear it, Mrs. Lynde will probably tell her that you don't seem to like your present."

Anne sighed. "Yes, gifts always cause so many problems…well not always, of course, but it certainly seems that way. You know, Gilbert bought me a new pair of gloves, since winter is coming so soon. I'm glad he did – I can hardly afford to buy new ones with the twins coming in and Marilla not feeling very healthy, on top of saving for Redmond! But anyhow they're black so of course they match with nearly everything, and they're gloves for casual wear so I wear them almost every day but Sunday. And would you believe that Mrs. Lynde told Marilla that she thought that Gilbert was being entirely too 'obvious' in his 'intentions', and that it was shameful of me to be so 'obvious' about 'returning his affections' without being 'properly engaged'? Of course when I heard that, I marched right up to Mrs. Lynde's…I asked her why she would think such a thing. She told me that I was too young and naïve if I thought the gift was anything other than romantic. I told her gloves were so practical a gift that there was no way for them to be romantic, but Mrs. Lynde just shook her head and offered me some tea."

"George _did_ buy Lizzie a hat, and he meant it to be romantic, _and_ it's practical," I said, very cautiously.

"That's different," Anne fumed. "George and Lizzie clearly have the same feelings towards each other. It's obvious as day. Gilbert and I are just not like that at all."

I nodded, trying my best to not sound too superior when I asked: "So what was the occasion? Why did Gil give you the gloves?"

"No occasion," she said, sounding dismissive. "Just a gift from one good friend to another. Anyhow, I ought to think of something extra special to make him for Christmas – it's already November, can you believe it? How astonishing. It seems like it was just yesterday that I started teaching…Anthony Pye continues to be a hassle but I'll win him over yet, you'll see," and then to the skeptical look on my face she added, "And I won't use the whip, either. Oh by the way, Diana, I didn't call you here just to look at the final leaves as they fall, you know – though that was part of the reason. I have something to give you, but I didn't want to give it to you where other people could see, and this is as secluded an area as I could think of."

"A gift?" I asked, a bit surprised. "Anne, you shouldn't have! Christmas is less than two months away, you know."

"Well, it's not really from _me_," she said, sounding awkward. "The person who gave this to me said that I shouldn't give this to you until a few weeks had passed…"

"A few weeks from when?"

"It's from Oliver," she said, reaching into her bag and thrusting a box at me. "'Don't give this to her until a month after I leave,' he said."

I decided to open it – it wouldn't hurt to see what it was, after all. I carefully pried the flaps open and in the box there sat a hat.

A purple hat.

I took it out of the box and carefully looked over it. It wouldn't fit Dora or Minnie May, I didn't think, and I couldn't think of anyone else who'd need it –

So I promptly threw it into the river running under the bridge.

"Diana!" Anne sounded scandalized.

"Anne!" I mimicked. "I don't want to hear from him or even think about him. He was awfully mean to me. Let's talk of something else," I said, flattening the box out. "Have you heard anything from Jane lately?"

Anne looked dismayed for a moment, but she quickly rallied and was soon speaking in her bright tones once again. "Oh, yes! I tried to subtly ask her about Moody, just like you asked me to, but you know, she wouldn't say a thing! When I asked her about romance she said that she'd rather spend her time cultivating life skills until such a time came that her father decided she was old enough to marry, and only then would she start a proper romance. Though she's so _practical_ – I bet her idea of romance is making a list of essentials in a husband, like a good and steady job, nice to women and children, properly read in politics, all that. Not that I'm speaking ill of her, of course! It's good to be practical, though I couldn't imagine being so myself. I'll always be a little to childish, I think. I still want my Byronic hero, with dark hair and a melancholic aura. Though _your _tastes seem to have changed a little, Diana."

"I couldn't see you being married to someone melancholic though, Anne," I said, ignoring her last sentence. "You are the cheeriest person I ever saw. It wouldn't look right to have you next to a man who's never smiling."

"Oh, he wouldn't _never_ smile, Diana," said Anne, clasping her hands together and staring wistfully into the distance. "He'd smile all the time, but it would always be tinged with a little downward turn at the corner of his mouth. And he'd save a special smile – just – for – me! I'll look deeply into his eyes, and he'll look deeply into mine - and _that_ would be the only time he'd really, truly, smile. And of course, he'd have his fatherly smile for the children. Any man I marry _must_ have the soul of a poet. Say! Speaking of poets, Diana, Paul Irving wrote one for a composition, a full Shakespearian sonnet! It was simply astounding, I'm just dying to show you. I showed it to Gil and he said that he thinks Paul will be famous yet. It's not just me who thinks so!"

Here, she extracted a sheet of paper from her pocket and carefully passed it to me. I unfolded it and carefully read Paul's poem. It certainly sounded nice, and rhymed just like a sonnet should. Though all the sonnets we'd read in school were about love, and this one was about twin sailors.

"It _is_ good," I said, trying not to sound too doubting, "But you _do_ get awfully hopeful sometimes, Anne. If you didn't expect so much you wouldn't be so disappointed all the time."

"But that wouldn't really feel like living," she replied. "It would seem more like – well, more like just being, just existing. That's how Thomas put it – he was telling me that he felt like he just existed, and that he'd been trying his best to really live. And for him, really living means working hard, being a dependable man, enjoying everything he does, and of course being in God's grace. So you know, living doesn't have to mean the same thing to everyone. But for me, at least, it means _feeling_ everything. Maybe a little too much – Marilla always tells me that I don't look like it but that I take everything too seriously – but that's how it is. Anyhow Thomas certainly has the soul of a poet even though he probably wouldn't be able to express it in writing like Paul can."

"Why don't you just marry him, them? You two seem to get along well enough."

"But romance isn't just about getting along, Diana! It's about…well…I'm not entirely sure what it's about, to be honest. I used to think it was about princesses getting rescued by the noble gentlemen of the king's court, but of course that's just fantasy. I still read those stories sometimes but I stopped writing them, though Mrs. Lynde says that I still live far too much in a fantasy world, and that your mother was right to scold you so awfully about the Haunted Woods incident, and that she didn't know for the life of her why Marilla had been so lenient about it, but I just told her that I simply couldn't live without romance. Mrs. Lynde said that I should be more practical, like Jane, and find a good dependable man, and wasn't I hanging around that nice Thomas Strong fellow often? Well I told her that I'd never give up my ideal even if it meant being an old maid, and she said that so it would be, and that it was good that I wouldn't chase after boys like Ruby Gillis does, and that anyhow Julia Bell was chasing after Thomas something awful and it wouldn't be good to get in her way. I told her that I could at least agree with that. You know, Diana, Julia scares me a little bit."

x

Time passed. The November and December days seemed to go by in a haze. It didn't help, of course, that those days kept getting ever so much shorter. Nighttime fell earlier and earlier and everyone's mood seemed to take a sharp downturn. Mrs. Lynde and Mrs. Cooper kept getting into very public arguments. Anthony Pye's behavior, according to Anne, just got worse ever day. Laura and Sam Sloane would give me odd glances every time I passed by them, and Fred's frequent glances at me during dinner gave me an odd feeling.

All in all, it was a bit of a relief when Christmas arrived.

That morning I woke up and found my father and Minnie May in the sitting room. Father had already been awake for hours, of course, getting up early to tend to the animals. Mother was in the kitchen, cooking an extravagant breakfast, from what I could smell. Minnie May was curled up on father's lap, half-asleep still.

""Diana! Good of you to join us," my father said. "We'll exchange presents soon as your mother comes back into the sitting room."

"Alright, I'm here," my mother said, walking in with apron still on. "Though I can't be away from the oven for too long if you want an edible breakfast."

So we quickly exchanged presents, and so the day passed in a slow, comforting way, until afternoon arrived and people started knocking at the door.

The first person to come was Anne, hand-in-hand with Dora.

"Diana, merry Christmas! Dora wanted to give her present to Minnie May so I've brought her along with me. Let me tell you, Diana, these past few days have been a relief for me. I've been busy helping Marilla, of course, and of course I love teaching, but it _does_ get tiring..."

For my present Anne gave me the nicest scarf I ever saw.

"Because I've been doing the knitting, you know, what with Marilla's eyes being in such a state. I've gotten surprisingly good at it."

Minnie May and Dora streamed out the door, no doubt to visit their friends. Gilbert had been standing right outside, and Minnie May and Dora rushed out of the house the door hit him squarely in the face.

"I'm very sorry, Gilbert Blythe," said Dora, profusely apologizing. Gilbert waved her away as Anne and I rushed to help him stand up.

"Ouch...merry Christmas, ladies," he said, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh dear...I'll have to talk to Minnie May later," I said.

"It's fine," he said, walking into the house. "I remember when I was a kid I got very excited on Christmas. I guess I still do, but I'm better at hiding it now!"

Gilbert gave Anne a rather large leather-bound volumes, with the words THE COMPLETED WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE embossed on the cover in gold letters. As for my present, he gave me the second-nicest scarf I ever saw.

"Did you...buy this?" I asked. It looked hand-made...perhaps his mother had made it.

"No. Don't let it spread around, but I've been learning to knit. I must say I've gotten surprisingly good at it." At my disbelieving look he added, "Well Anne told me once that she's been having a hard time keeping Dora and Davy clothed this winter, so I thought I could make a few things for them and help out. After all, if Fred can sit down and sew something for you, then I can certainly sit down and knit something...to help others."

Anne began to stammer but I had too pressing a question to enjoy teasing her.

"Gil - what do you mean, 'if Fred can sit down and sew something for you'?"

"Ohh...I suppose he hasn't given you your Christmas present yet."

This inspired a bit of a dreading feeling in me but before I could dwell on it too much in burst Julia, with nary a knock on the door, like an uninvited whirlwind.

"Diana! Anne! Gil! What a nice gathering we have here. We can have our own little Christmas celebration. I happen to have two rather extravagant pound cakes on me! Mrs. Lynde gave me one when I went to visit her today. Well later on I was walking with Thomas and we passed Mrs. Cooper. I just happened to be telling Thomas about how delicious this pound cake is bound to be since Mrs. Lynde is such a good baker, and Mrs. Cooper fairly dragged me to her house and gave me the pound cake she had in her pantry. I will never know what brought about this fit of generosity on her part. Anyhow I can't eat all this by myself and I had a feeling you three would be here. Thomas should be by soon with some cordial."

Thomas did indeed arrive soon after and within the span of an hour all of the Sewing Circle and a large fraction of AVIS had descended upon my house. At least they all brought food with them. This did much to reconcile my father and mother to the noise of a large crowd.

At one point, Fred caught me between the kitchen and the sitting room and asked to speak to me outside.

"But it's cold outside," I pointed out.

"But...I wanted to give you a Christmas present," he said, lowering his voice a little. He fiddled with something behind his back.

"People are mostly in the kitchen and the sitting room anyhow," I said, "So this is as quiet a place as any."

"Alright. Merry Christmas, Diana." Here he brought what he was holding out from behind his back and held it up in front of me. I carefully took the box, lifted the lid, and looked inside. There was a neatly folded, gauzy something in the box. I took it out of the box and unfolded it. It was a very delicate organdy dress, cut in a style that I had just seen in the latest catalogue, with almost invisible stitching.

And it was purple! Coincidence?

"...It's lovely Fred. Thank you very much."

"I'd like to have the opportunity to see you wear it. I have bought tickets to hear the renowned elocutionist, Mrs Perry White. A Charlottetown hotel will be holding a concert in March when she'll be performing. I know it's a little while from now but I would be honored if you'd accompany me."

Well there was little way to say no to that. "Of course."

With an awkward little nod Fred turned and disappeared back into the sitting room. I sighed a little as Anne and Julia suddenly flanked me.

"Mrs Perry White is not a very romantic name," noted Anne.

"At least your life has gotten a little exciting again," observed Julia. "Maybe this'll get you out of that little winter spell of yours."

--

A/N: This is the problem with having Anne in a chapter. She just talks so much! I really don't know how to add in description around Anne's monologues, it seems so awkward to try to interrupt her. I hope everyone can follow her "x told y about z" gossiping. Also, Christmas: I couldn't really find any information on how it was celebrated at the turn of last century so yes, I'm basing it on modern Christmas.

**manda2784**: Yeah, being tough on Diana is one of my favorite pastimes ;) I do feel bad for her though...

**motherkat**: Thank you!

**tvor**: I think she could live with complacency, just not very happily :P Thank you for the kind words once again :)

**november21**: Oh that actually does sound like a way more accurate summary! Thanks. I'll change it to something very similar to that sometime soon.

**Mrs**. **Rilla Ford**: Rilla of Ingleside is my third favorite from the Anne series, after Green Gables and Island!

**The Labyrinths Scribe**: 450 unread is too many! Anyway there's a bit more Gilbert in this chapter, I like to tantalize readers by giving only glimpses of him :P

**Jonzeygirl**: More Anne in this chapter. The poor girl has been busy! I'll probably continue into Anne of the Island because Anne fo Avonlea only covers two years. Yeah, the proposals to Anne in Anne of Avonlea always make me laugh too!


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